A to X
by JaceDLark
Summary: When Hawkeye is betrayed by Coulson and Rogers, he goes on the run from SHIELD and the Avengers. He decides to hide within another superhero group - the X-men. Can he find a way to make the X-men his new family? Will someone help mend his broken heart? Eventual SLASH with a side of het and femslash. Possible OOC. Goes slowly from angst to romance.
1. Anything but X-cellent

Heya.

So I'm back with a new fic after my PC ate everything I'd ever written before (grrrr) so I hope it's to your liking. If it's not, too bad. I'm not one of those people who will change their story because someone doesn't like something or other. Please note the following things.

1) I do not own these fandoms. I wish I did but alas, I do not.

2) Here be slash. If you don't like it or don't know what that means, there are plenty of het stories around. Find one of those. That said, this is eventual slash. It will take time.

3) I'm Australian. My words may be spelt differently to you. I will not change them to suit you. Also, my knowledge of Americanisms is seriously lacking. I might get things wrong and I would love it if you could tell me. Eg - Jello in America is called Jelly here, thus Jelly in America is called Jam. Confused yet? Now you understand my dilemmas.

4) In that vein, I only speak fluent English. A big shout out to **PtitBlond** who has devoted much time to fixing my terrible French. Any Russian and German has come direct from Google Translate, so blame them ;-) Of course, if you do speak either of those languages and care to help me fix it up properly, please pm me! I would love for the text to be correct and will adjust this to add your fabulous name.

5) I don't have a beta. All mistakes (which I hope to keep to a minimum, let me know if you see any!) are mine. Feedback, con crit and reviews are treasured. Flames will be laughed at and promptly deleted.

I hope you enjoy the story and my aim is to add a new chapter each week.

Cheers, Jace.

* * *

><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter One - Anything but X-cellent_

"That's wonderful guys!" smiled Clint as he looked at a radiant Coulson and Cap. The pair had just announced that they were an item in front of the team. The only absent Avenger was Natasha who was securing a particle weapon in Iqaluit for SHIELD and wasn't expected back for another few days. Clint was most thankful for that because she would have seen through his mask in an instant and perceived the heartbreak he was carefully trying to keep hidden. Ordinarily, Coulson would have noticed as well but the agent was way too deliriously happy about starting his new relationship to care.

So there Clint stood, amid his friends (and he finally felt like he could call them that) and forced himself to just keep fucking smiling. Steve was blushing an adorable pink colour and Tony had already dashed off to one of the many bars in the tower to bring celebratory drinks. Clint had to force himself to sip the champagne and not chug it all down because the last thing he wanted was to call attention to himself. Coulson would be much more likely to notice him that way.

Clint cracked his obligatory jokes although he would rather have gone a few rounds with Galactus on his own with a broken bow than laugh. He kept a polite grin perpetually on his face and gave a nice toast to the new couple. That was when he almost fell to pieces. Coulson gazed happily back at Clint with such a sappy look on his face that it tore his heart in two. He was so feverishly joyful and he was looking at the archer, expecting him to feel the same. Thankfully the (usually) sharp man and SHIELD's most efficient agent (second to Fury himself) was for once completely oblivious.

It took a few hours before Bruce sidled out of the room and now that Clint wouldn't be the first out of the door, he took the chance to bail. Tony tried to get him to join an impromptu celebration at a nearby club but he managed to avoid it since he'd only just got back from a mission. That was the only time Coulson studied him carefully and after the agent made sure his subordinate was well, just tired, he swaggered to his room.

Alone at last, Clint finally let the tears he'd held in fall silently. Apparently the fact the he'd been sleeping with Coulson for almost a year now meant nothing to the senior agent.

Turning the temperature of the shower up to scalding, Clint slipped in and tried to wash the pain away with very limited success. It was the only time he allowed actual sobs out, otherwise JARVIS would hear them and report it back to Tony. That could not occur. He wouldn't let it. When he finally got a handle on his emotions, he stepped out of the shower and into his usual boxers. They were black with silver spider webs over them; a Christmas gift from Natasha. He slid into bed, hoping that when he woke the next day, he'd feel slightly better. _Fat chance of that happening though_ he bitterly thought to himself.

The bright sun woke Clint up the next morning and he wearily sat up in his bed. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and freaked the fuck out when he realised that the gun he usually kept under his pillow was missing. It was then that he remembered why he'd forgotten his usual nightly routine and the pain hit him like a barrage of bricks in the face. His mouth tasted feral since he hadn't brushed his teeth and he threw on some casual clothes before meandering down for breakfast.

One look at the box of Lucky Charms almost caused him to collapse in hysterical laughter at how unlucky and uncharmed his life was turning out to be. So he grabbed out some Rice Krispies instead. It was mercifully desolate in the kitchen and he scarfed his breakfast down so he could escape before anyone else showed up. That way he wouldn't have to fake his usual demeanour when he really just wanted to shoot something. Or break down crying. Or both. Fortune smiled on the archer and he snuck off to the range for several hours of brain numbing training.

Clint showered, this time with the water at a more normal temperature before heaving an internal sigh and making his way to the den. After a mission, he'd normally catch up on his TiVo shows and if he broke his normal pattern, Coulson at the very least would notice and that was unacceptable. He watched the next episodes of The Walking Dead, CSI and his personal favourite, Arrow. His usual game of working out how many special effects were wrong, like improbable blood spatter re-enactments and incorrect grips on weapons kept his mind off the Avenger's latest couple. That was until the pair walked into the room. It was a lot more difficult to disregard their existence when they were there in person.

Rogers pulled Coulson into his lap and they both blushed as they tried to get comfy on the couch next to Clint. Knowing it would be unusual for him to ignore them, Clint looked at the crimson pair with a (hopefully unnoticed) forced smile. "Hey guys!" he chirped.

"Morning Clint," answered Rogers. "Your mission in Baghdad was a success then?"

"Yeah, I holed up in a hotel in Sadr City waiting for the perfect shot and eventually, yep. One bullet in the chest," Clint said casually.

Rogers frowned and Coulson didn't deign the conversation with a response. "Wait, wasn't an American ambassador killed there yesterday?" asked Rogers in a stern voice.

"That's classified," Clint stated in a monotone.

"Clint, you can't just go around shooting Americans. Even if they are overseas," Rogers crossed his arms and openly glared at the archer with disapproval.

Clint couldn't help it. He snorted at the naivety that was sitting next to him. "Cap, I know it goes against your delicate sensibilities but you do know that I'm an assassin, don't you? I kill people for a living." He was inwardly rolling his eyes. How could a man from the forties who fought in World War II and saved the planet on an almost weekly basis for a couple of years now still squick at assassination? Surely anyone in the forces would understand that sometimes, as unpleasant as it can be, execution from an unknown assailant can save more lives than a drawn out diplomatic situation or an exacerbated standoff.

Rogers' eyes narrowed. "It's just not right."

In his peripheral vision, Clint saw Coulson give a slight nod before divulging the classified information. Apparently the good Captain would be better informed now since he's dating the agent. He wondered if Coulson realised that he was already compromised. Then again, Clint had been compromised for almost a year but Coulson had never given him privileged information. Clearly sex was all the agent had ever wanted from him. Which just made the fact that he had (despite his best efforts) fallen in love with the man all the more embarrassing.

Clint swept the thoughts away and filled in some details. "I saved his life. The ambassador had been wearing a kevlar vest under his shirt fitted with a powerful sedative and a blood bag. The Iraqi government thought the man had been bribing officials and were going to arrest and execute him. SHIELD needed someone that wouldn't miss and that was me."

"Oh, sorry Hawkeye. I should have known better," apologised Rogers.

Clint privately agreed, the super soldier should have known better, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He had nothing to prove. He'd been an Avenger since the siege on Manhattan almost two years ago. Trust was halting at first since he had been a mind-controlled drone but he'd shown them all, time and time again, just how dedicated he was to the team. He shrugged his shoulders at his field commander and threw him a half-smile. Coulson was too busy watching the television to see their exchange.

Not wanting to spend any more time with the two snuggling on the couch, Clint rose to his feet and stretched with a somewhat loud yawn. "Anyways, I'll catch you two lovebirds later," he chirped and was pleased he managed to keep his tone light instead of sarcastic. "Just don't christen the couch. Ew. We've still got to sit there you know," he said with another non-noticed forced smile and airily swept from the room.

Clint pinched some snacks for lunch and took them to his room. He collapsed onto his bed with an indistinct noise of combined disgust, relief and despair. It was barely three in the afternoon and the archer was already exhausted. How was he supposed to get through tonight's team dinner without smacking his head repeatedly into his plate of pasta or steak or whatever?

Eating the chocolate biscuits he'd pilfered, Clint was wondering how long he'd be able to last before the others started to notice that he was broken. If Natasha was here, she would have cornered him, gotten the story out of him and they would be downing shots of vodka already. God he fucking wished they could be doing that right now.

Clint's sharp eyes fell upon the full bottle of vodka resting on his coffee table that Nat had gifted him a few weeks ago on his birthday and he thought, _Why the fuck not?_ He rolled off the bed with a casual grace and picked the bottle up. His original intention was to get a shot glass from his kitchenette but decided that he didn't really give a flying fuck at the moment and started swigging straight from the bottle. The liquid fire burnt through his body and we welcomed it. After he'd polished off a third of the bottle, his thoughts turned back to his teammates.

Tony wouldn't notice Clint had a problem unless the archer morphed into a naked woman or a circuit board. As he was neither, he was pretty much safe there. Bruce was usually too busy keeping his own emotions under control to really notice anyone else's. The God of Thunder would probably be waxing on about his Jane Foster and how wonderful she was or defending the actions of his brother, Loki, and ensuring everyone knew he was being punished severely at the hands of Odin. Sam was still too busy geeking out that he was the newest Avenger and lacked any real knowledge of him to make an actual assessment.

The four people most likely to notice that Clint was pretty much feeling constant physical pain since the announcement yesterday, were the couple themselves, Cap and Coulson (he refused to think of their given names anymore) plus Pepper and JARVIS. Thankfully the couple were too busy groping each other in public to give a shit about him. Pepper was rarely around so the only real threat was JARVIS. Maybe that could be turned from a problem into an advantage.

Clint licked his lips before calling out to the Artificial Intelligence. "Hey JARV?" he voiced questioningly.

"Yes, Mr Barton," came the British voiceprint as smoothly as ever. Damn Tony really is a genius when he wasn't being conceited or an asshole. Or both.

"You know pretty much everything that goes on in this tower, don't you?" Clint asked rhetorically.

"I do possess an intimate knowledge of every electronic function of this building, including Sir's specialised suits and with an expansive memory unit plus ninety-seven point six percent visual coverage of the interior and nearby exterior..."

"JARV," groaned Clint with amused exasperation over the computerised voice. "A yes or no would have been sufficient."

"Perhaps, Mr Barton, you should have used that particular limiter with your initial request. In that case, yes, I do know virtually everything that occurs in this tower."

Clint rolled his eyes at the smug voice. He found it funny that the artificial intelligence was far sassier than his creator. Sometimes the student does surpass the master. "Great." The smile slid from his face. "So, you know, well knew, about my, er, not relationship, obviously..." He trailed off trying to put his thoughts into words. The vodka he was still consuming was probably not helping.

"If you are referring to your arrangement with Agent Coulson, then the answer is once again yes." The quieter tone conveyed sympathy and Clint couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for JARVIS.

"Hmm, arrangement," Clint said aloud to himself. He snorted. "I wish I'd known it was only an arrangement," he muttered to himself. Louder, he spoke back to JARVIS, "So, you probably know that I'm pretty fucked up right now?" He turned the end of the sentence into a question.

"Yes, Mr Barton." The lack of snark and sarcasm reignited Clint's tears. Someone (even if it wasn't human) knew he was at his lowest of lows. He found it to be oddly comforting.

"Could, er, could you help me keep that information confidential? Even from Tony?" the archer asked somewhat timidly. He and JARVIS had been partners in crime in a few pranks since his arrival at the tower but this was definitely a different kind of request.

"I will do everything in my power to help you to do so, as long as it doesn't conflict with my higher order programming," confirmed JARVIS.

Clint sighed with relief and swigged from his rapidly depleting stock of vodka. "What could conflict, JARV?"

"There are only three commands placed higher than the safety and well-being of the Avengers. The safety and well-being of Mr Stark takes precedence..." began JARVIS.

"Naturally," Clint acknowledged. That much was obvious. "I assume the next is the same but for Pepper, yeah?"

"Indeed, Miss Potts is then afforded the same conditions. The third is the physical safety of the civilians in and around the tower. Sir believes that the Avengers and SHIELD personnel should be able to take care of themselves so their safety has been relegated lower in my programming. As long as the subject of your arrangement does not come into conflict with these conditions, I will never divulge the information. Even to Sir."

"Thanks JARV, you're a gem," smiled Clint sadly.

"Naturally, Mr Barton," agreed the AI which elicited a small laugh from the miserable man. Clint drank in silence for a while and noticed his bottle was almost empty. That sucked, even though it was only about half the size of a regular one. The archer added a mental note not to piss off Tasha three days before his birthday, it caused her to be less generous than usual.

Clint nearly dropped the vodka when JARVIS's voice reminded him that it was almost time for the team dinner. He downed the rest and unsteadily rose to his feet. The world swam more pleasantly around him. The pain he'd been feeling in his chest since the day before had become a dull ache. Still noticeable but muted. He actually felt like he could survive this dinner intact. Maybe. "Hey JARVIS?" he called out.

"Yes, Mr Barton?"

"If you think I'm gonna be caught out at dinner or something, could you maybe help me out?"

"With a distraction of some sort perhaps?" asked the AI with a tinge of smugness.

"JARV, you're a genius. If you were human, I swear we'd be married," Clint smirked.

"Only if the ring is a Harry Winston," noted JARVIS snootily, causing the archer to laugh properly for the first time since the unexpected news.

"Only the best for you, hey JARV?" said Clint when his laughing eventually receded.

"Of course."

Clint made his way to the elevator and then the kitchen. Bruce smiled as he gave him a stack of bowls and the archer laid them out in the adjoining dining room. It had become a habit for everyone attending the dinner to help in some way. Not wanting to get stuck with doing the dishes, he thought he'd tackle an infinitely easier job. Made slightly more difficult due to the alcohol but pretty easy nonetheless. He had a strong suspicion he might need a quick getaway later on and getting stuck in the kitchen would be counterproductive.

It seemed the gamma radiation scientist had whipped up a traditional Indian luksa and it smelled heavenly. There were buttered and unbuttered slices of bread, extra chopped vegetables and carved meat laid out in the centre of the table so everyone could add whatever flavours they wanted to. Clint's mouth was watering in anticipation. Soon the dinner table was full of people all hungrily eyeing the food.

When Bruce finally sat with a pleased huff, Rogers cleared his throat. He lowered his head and said Grace and even though most of the others weren't the type, it had become a part of their routine. How could they deny the poor man one of the few things that hadn't really changed since the forties?

Clint sat still as Steve thanked God (who Clint certainly did not believe in, especially not after this) for keeping their team members safe again and asked for Him to watch over Natasha in Canada so she would return home safely. He then went on to thank God for his family (they were once just friends but now, they had sort of become a family) and then for Phil. Clint was pleased he had already drank the full bottle of vodka and that he wasn't holding anyone's hand at the time or they would have felt his involuntary spasm at the mention of the relationship.

After Cap started waxing on about Coulson, Tony abruptly interrupted him with, "For God's sake, Steve. Talk about him while we eat. I'm starving and the robotics sure don't weld themselves."

Cap blushed a deep scarlet while a flutter of appreciative giggles travelled around the table. He gestured wordlessly at the meal and the usual table chatter began as the Avengers savaged their dinner. Clint's taste buds were in heaven. Even though Bruce's globetrotting didn't help too much for his research, it did wonders for his culinary skills.

Clint had been focussed on getting every drop of the luksa on the inside of his bowl with a slice of bread when Coulson startled him with a sharp, "Barton!" He looked at the agent with surprise.

"What?" he asked as the conversations around them fizzled out. What had he done? He was just eating dinner.

The agent look at his asset with suspicion. "You're being rather quiet at your end of the table."

Clint shrugged. "It's too good to talk through, Bruce." He sent a smile the chef's way which was gratefully returned. Many of the others shared his sentiment.

Coulson however was not to be put off. He kept shooting a guarded stare Clint's way. Nearly everyone had finished eating before the agent spoke up again. "You're drunk, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

The archer nodded as the Avengers looked at him warily.

"You've been drinking without moi?" asked Tony in a mock hurt tone.

Clint shrugged, "Sorry Iron Brat, I was participating in a Skype drinking game."

"JARVIS, how much of my alcohol has Bird Brain drunk?" Tony asked his British conscience.

"None Sir," came the ever-present voice in reply.

Tony's eyes narrowed on him. Clint shrugged again. "It's been a while since I've seen Tasha so I logged on with a couple of friends and drank the vodka she bought me for my last birthday."

"Who are these friends and why were we not invited to this party?" asked Thor loudly, of course. His expression was a cross between an angry glare and a cute pout.

"Just some of the many nameless SHIELD agents I knew from before the Avengers," said Clint who was starting to worry about this line of questioning. The lie of a drinking game was pretty much the only plausible explanation he could give them to assuage their suspicions. Originally he was going to say he was drinking with Nat but then Coulson would have checked in with her and discovered the lie.

"Did you best the weaklings with your drinking prowess?" Thor talked over the many questions thrown Clint's way. He spoke as if the answer was already clear and there was a note of pride in his voice.

"Of co..." started Clint but a loud explosion ended the conversation. Cap, Coulson and Bruce immediately sprang to their feet. Normally Clint would have too but his inebriation had dulled his body's automatic response to a blast.

"JARVIS?" asked Tony from his chair as he used his napkin.

"It would appear that the toaster that you made sentient a few weeks ago has, for some reason, detonated," the AI informed him.

Cap raced into the kitchen and put out the couple of small, lingering fires as Bruce sat back down heavily, taking some deep breaths. Tony was muttering to himself, no doubt trying to work out why his toaster had blown up.

Thor crossed his arms and pouted at the table. "Now how am I supposed to make the tarts that pop (but do not really pop) now? Gwenelg would always tell me what to do since the buttons would sometimes change places."

"For the last time, Shakira," snarked Tony, "The toaster does not have a name!"

"But in the mighty halls of Asgard, Gwenelg used to prepare the most amazing feasts, worthy of..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," grumbled Tony in exasperation. "It was just a bloody toaster."

The prince looked horrified. "It used blood? If I had known it used dark magic to prepare..."

Clint tuned out of the rapidly degenerating conversation and made his escape, snagging a new bottle of vodka from one of Tony's bars on the way. He chuckled to himself. Now he had taken some of the multi-billionaire's alcohol.

When he was safely sequestered in his room, Clint called out, "Thanks JARV. I'm pretty sure that you just saved my ass out there."

"It's just one of my many talents, Mr Barton," came the pleased-sounding reply.

Clint chuckled. Without any fanfare, he opened the bottle and started round two. He bravely called Nat who chastised him immediately for drinking from the bottle (how did she even know? Bloody super spies) and since she was waiting in a bar for an informant at the time, they actually did drink a few shots of vodka together. He could tell she knew something was up but she didn't press him for details and he just hoped to hell she didn't call up Coulson about it.

Natasha swore and the call abruptly ended so Clint assumed her operation had just gone south and he hoped she would be okay, even though she's the fucking Black Widow. She's ALWAYS okay.

After the second bottle was completely consumed and the alcohol really started to catch up with him, Clint unfortunately began to hear the sounds of very loud sex.

Clint froze. He'd never really noticed that Cap was living directly below him until then.

Clint found his IPod and jammed the buds into his ears as quickly as he could. Electropop covered the sounds that he knew were still going on and his mind just kept torturing him with the information. It was then that he came to a very unpleasant realisation. If he could hear Cap and Coulson... doing that. Then Cap would have heard them... doing that too. He must have known.

Sitting still for a moment, Clint let that information sink in.

The first thing he thought was that it was the most un-American thing Rogers had ever done. Especially since the man was Christian. Whatever happened to _Thy shall not covet their friend's lov... no, boyf... er... fuckbuddy_? Add that to Coulson's hurtful betrayal and Clint didn't think he could do this anymore. He couldn't have his handler and his field commander fucking without being completely compromised. Especially since they both knew he had been in a long term whatever and neither had the balls to say ANYTHING about it to his damn face. And they expected him to be happy? Thrilled? Fucking ecstatic? NO FUCKING WAY.

He's out.


	2. Arranging his X-it

**A to X**

_Chapter Two - Arranging his X-it_

The only thing to do now was to leave.

If Clint went directly to Fury about resigning he knew exactly what would happen. Fury would live up to his name and yell. A lot. Clint was well aware that although the director's office was soundproofed, when he was enraged, everyone in the vicinity couldn't help but hear his roaring. Thus someone would overhear the reasoning behind his resignation (since Fury would somehow get it out of him) and there would probably be a network-wide memo about it mere moments later. There was no way he'd air their dirty laundry around SHIELD if he could help it. It also didn't help that out of everyone, he'd be the one somehow painted as the villain. Too many of his colleagues still looked down on him for the whole Loki thing. No need to give them more ammunition.

Commander Hill was second in line but just, no. Ordinarily the type of person she was (a smart, hard-assed, career driven, field agent veteran) would encourage Clint to like her. Unfortunately since he'd shot at her under Loki's control before the Manhattan invasion, she avoided him like he was contagious and refused to talk to him unless she was personally ordered to by Fury. The agent would always send a courier if she could and avoided face to face confrontations at all costs. If he rocked up at her door, she'd either punch him or shoot him out of reflex and he liked his balls exactly where they were.

The only other superior Clint could possibly file his notification of the end of his employment to was Coulson himself and there was no way that was happening. He would never be having that particular conversation, even under torture. Anyway, since he apparently wasn't in a real relationship in the first place, why treat it as one and confront the bastard?

So it looked like Clint wouldn't be leaving SHIELD under amenable circumstances. It was sort of a pity since they had given him a life and way more chances whenever he screwed up than they really should have. He'd have to disappear permanently. Live somewhere that Nick Fury would not be able to find him. The way he saw it, there were three options; go civilian, mercenary or hero for hire.

Option number one. Go to ground and try to live a boring, mundane life.

This choice was discarded almost as soon as Clint thought it. Unfortunately, there wasn't much an uneducated American could do for a regular job. Especially when the largest military force in the USA (no matter how covert) would be searching high and low for him. Even knowing in intimate detail how easy it was to disappear, staying hidden permanently was one of the most difficult things an agent could successfully achieve. He'd no doubt screw it up at some point and did not want to be hauled back to SHIELD.

Option number two. Turn from hero to villain and lease himself out as a freelance assassin for hire.

There was no doubt about Clint's specific skill set. If he wished to continue doing the work he was exceptionally good at (without returning to a damn circus) he'd have to be an assassin for hire. After being on the side of the angels for so long, he couldn't really see himself working for criminals. He also doubted they'd want to hire an ex-SHIELD agent and ex-Avenger as they'd suspect a doublecross. The days of shoot first, collect money later from any random Joe seemed to be long gone.

Which left option number three. Blend in with a team of heroes.

Escaping the biggest intelligence agency on the planet would be extremely difficult unless he found some trustworthy friends to help camouflage him. So he brainstormed and tried to work out which teams might be viable to join.

The Fantastic Four were easily out. One word, four. Plus they already had strong ties to the government and in some cases, SHIELD itself. That was so not happening. It was also why Delta Force was out. It was run by the bloody Pentagon. Also, he wasn't even supposed to know about that team. He may have at some point stationed himself in a vent near Fury's office before the bastard caught on and installed laser grids. But oh the things he had heard before then...

Clint considered going abroad where SHIELD's influence would be lessened. The obvious choice would be Alpha Flight in Canada but they, just like the Avengers, were too much in the public spotlight. Same with Excalibur in England. It would also be pretty damn obvious that he was not native to those countries and doubted they would want him in the first place.

No. What Clint really needed was to somehow find a team in the USA, preferably away from the middle of Manhattan. It had to be a place where SHIELD was at the very least, distrusted. Somewhere he could blend in without drawing too much attention to himself. An abode where others could help him do so. That's when an idea came to him.

The X-men.

Sure, Clint wasn't a mutant but he was pretty exceptional and might be able to pass for one in a pinch. Super sight or some such excuse. He'd met a few of them before and they were highly distrustful of SHIELD and if memory serves, Wolverine was the only one who would really have anything to do with Nick Fury anymore. Apparently he knew his father from a war in the past or something.

Yes. Clint decided to try to join the X-men if they'll have him. If they didn't want him because they were mutant snobs or something, hopefully they'd at least help him get on his feet before they kicked him to the curb.

If memory served the archer correctly, the X-mansion was about fifty-five miles northeast of the tower. The difficult parts would be remaining getting there unseen by SHIELD and actually getting into mansion. There would definitely be some sort of surveillance of the facility from both SHIELD and the X-men themselves. Then if he did make it there, he'd have to somehow convince the residents that he was not some sort of deep cover agent and was legitimately looking for asylum. That shouldn't be too hard since Charles Xavier and Jean Grey are both telepaths.

Clint looked around his room, well floor really. It had been nice to be a part of this family. Pity a couple of days and two inconsiderate men shattered the first place that had ever really felt like home to him. He grabbed his black mission duffel bag and emptied the contents onto his bed. No doubt most of his SHIELD standard equipment would have hidden tracers so he needed to take only what was absolutely necessary.

Clint located his man-bag (as Tony called it; a Christmas gift from him last year) and started filling it with his firearms. It was a plain black bag with several compartments and a velcro flap that covered the pockets from view. He took his stash of cash and put it in one, his bag of breaking and entering tools in another and some c4 in a third. He packed very little sentimental paraphernalia. The spider boxer shorts, one of his plain arrows (as a memento) and two photos taken out of their frames since he couldn't be sure they weren't bugged either. One was of the Avengers as a team, taken after the battle of Manhattan atop Stark tower by Pepper, right after she slapped Tony for almost dying on her. The other photograph was of just himself and Natasha. It had been snapped in Vladivostok after a very drunken binge when they had been turfed from a local bar. It was a selfie as they lay giggling in the snow on the sidewalk of some random street. Priceless.

The archer who was now nude (since he'd just packed his boxers) donned a plain purple sleeveless top, black jeans with shoes and socks but didn't bother packing any other clothes. He could buy new stuff later. Or just rough it. Either one. SHIELD had probably placed tracers in his clothes too. He wouldn't put it past them. Hopefully the one's he'd chosen weren't bugged or this excursion might be extremely short lived.

Knowing this was the last time he'd be here, Clint set everything back in its proper place before lovingly caressing his bow. No matter what he chose to do now, there was no way he'd be able to use one in public without announcing his reappearance like a lighthouse in the dead of the night. Just the thought of leaving it behind felt like he was hacking off his left arm but it had to be done. He carefully placed it on his bed and sent it one last smile. They'd been through hell together, many times over. Hopefully, Nat would take it before Fury could confiscate it and snap it in anger.

"Hey JARV? It's was pleasure living with you," Clint shakily announced to the ever-present artificial intelligence as he donned the now packed man-bag. The majority of the buzz he'd had from the alcohol was long gone, no longer dampening the feelings of hurt, anger, shame and regret at the loud sounds he could still hear coming through the floor. He had to get out of here. Now.

"Likewise, Mr Barton. Have a safe journey," the British voice returned.

Clint smiled at the ceiling and slipped silently from his room. As an assassin, the archer had mapped the blind spots of the tower (the remaining two point four percent of JARVIS's extensive coverage apparently) in his first week of living there. He stuck to them and made sure his exit was not visible by sticking to the vents, the elevator shaft and maintenance hatches. Soon he was standing by the garbage disposal bins (after having climbed down the chute) and started walking down the street.

A few blocks later, Clint found one of those touristy shops selling random American crap, along with all sorts of other supplies. He slipped a hand into one of the pockets of his bag and flicked on the low level electronics scrambler in his tool set. It was the only electronic device he'd brought with him. All it does is cause nearby security cameras to blur, making the people in the images indistinct.

Clint headed into the store, locating a new shirt (a stupid I heart NY one that he swore to Natasha he would never, ever wear) a black shoulder-length wig, some black lipstick, mascara, eyeliner and nail polish, a compact mirror, a black permanent marker and three chain-link dog leashes. After he'd purchased his new items and stored them in his man-bag, he switched off the scrambler after he made his way back outside and to a nearby bank. He needed to be seen as he was in the bank to throw SHIELD off his trail. Plus the scrambler had very limited battery life. He wanted to conserve it for the X-mansion, just in case he needed to infiltrate it.

The JPMorgan branch was as elegant as always and Tony insisted that each Avenger needed an account at one since it was apparently renowned for its customer service and confidentiality. Clint was counting on the latter to hold true. A smartly dressed blonde woman with a clipboard and a smile met him mere meters into the foyer, where she barged the unfortunate employee that had just walked up to him out of the way. He looked up angrily but his face blanched and he hastily moved to another customer. Clint found the silent exchange rather amusing and couldn't help but smirk at the other employee who was now listening to a harassed-looking woman with a screaming baby clutched in her arms.

"Welcome, Mr Barton," stated the blonde with a smile, dragging his attention back to where it belonged. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Tessa. I'm the senior executive of this branch of JPMorgan. How can I help you this evening?" She peered at the Avenger with her hand outstretched, through her black wire-framed glasses with a polite look as Clint stared at her in shock.

"Um, pardon my asking," the assassin murmured as he warily shook her hand, still reeling in shock. "How did you know who I am? I've never even been to one of your banks before." It was true. Tony had taken care of everything.

The bank executive's polite smile curled up into a more genuine one. "Mr Stark delivered us the profiles of all the Avengers and allowed us licence to invest up to half of your money to reach its full potential as we saw fit. In addition, he provided us with voice prints, biometric information and facial recognition software so that your money would remain one hundred percent secure."

Now that made sense to Clint. Of course Tony would just hand out his confidential information if it was for what the genius considered to be his own good. "I see. Is there somewhere more, er, private that we could...?"

Tessa saved him from floundering by expertly cutting through his burbling. "Of course, Mr Barton. Please follow me." Without waiting for a response, the woman turned to the left and walked down a corridor, junior officers dodging expertly out of her way.

Clint smiled at the woman and smartly kept up before smirking at the other bank employees catching their breath in her wake. It was official. He liked her. He also suspected that she was also a dominatrix and would probably like restraining her chosen bed-mates with chains hanging from the ceiling, possibly even in the office he was headed to.

Eventually, Tessa led the man into a standard board room and as he sat, a glass of chilled wine was placed next to him. No wonder Tony chose this bank. He couldn't help glancing at the ceiling, looking for evidence of chains but sadly found none. The executive sat across from Clint and patiently waited for him to state his business.

Not one to turn down a free drink, Clint delicately sipped from the glass as he collected his thoughts. "Originally, I was going to close my account. I'm at odds with the Avengers and have left the team." His gaze flicked to Tessa who remained inscrutable. "Another avenue may be open to us dependant on your answer to one simple question. Does SHIELD hold any sway, no matter how small, over your operation?"

Tessa returned his stare as she outlined that no, SHIELD just like every other government organisation, could not subvert or bypass their security without outright assaulting the facility. When her client seemed to blanch, she assured him, "They would never compromise this bank. Seventeen of our top one hundred clients, yourself not included, are SHIELD agents," Clint's eyes widened, "counting Director Fury himself. By the sounds of it, Mr Stark set up your account without your knowledge." The woman scowled. That was apparently a big no-no.

The woman tapped a few buttons on the table and a holographic interface appeared. Clint assumed this would impress other important businessmen and women but as he'd lived with Iron Man for well over a year, technology rarely impressed the archer anymore.

Tessa brought up a signed agreement that Clint realised was actually his own that he was certain he'd never even seen before. A passage was highlighted and it increased in size to become easily readable.

**The client hereby approves that if the client in any way attempts to gain access (legally or illicitly) to another client's account information, the former's money will be confiscated in recompense to the bank to be utilised as the bank sees fit.**

Clint blinked a couple of times. "So, if this is the standard agreement, Nick Fury would lose all of his money if he tried to get any details out of you, right?"

White teeth gleamed his direction as Tessa confirmed his statement. "Absolutely, Mr Barton." She flicked a few controls on the table and two names floated up. **Anthony Stark** and **Virginia** **Potts**. "Those two clients are the only two listed that can access your account information on your behalf without invoking this particular consequence."

As much as Clint wanted to trust the two of them, Fury would do whatever he needed to do to either get Clint back or get rid of him permanently. Blackmailing his friends would be child's play.

"Can I please get them removed from this listing? Also, Tony has probably come up with some sort of tracing software that he may have installed in my banking card. I'd like a new one. In fact, it might be safer to close that particular account number and open a new one altogether. He's a genius and Pepper is the most efficient CEO I've ever met. They both probably have my details memorised," Clint looked morosely at the holographic interface. He felt like he was the one betraying them, his family. It did not feel good, however necessary the action was.

Tessa had already been flicking through screens as he spoke and it was clear she had earned her position through sheer competency. A mere twelve minutes later, she was escorting him out the front door with a smile, a wave and a new bankcard, credit card and business card in his hand. "If you ever need anything, Mr Barton, that number is my personal cell. I'm completely at your disposal."

"Thank you, Tessa," he smiled at the woman. She'd just made his life a thousand times easier. Unlike most runaways, he could actually use his credit card without being traced. With a jaunty wave, he walked a couple of blocks east and entered a random alley.

Clint removed his purple top and lobbed it into a nearby open trash can. He uncapped the permanent marker and drew a cross through the love heart on his new shirt. Underneath he messily wrote a few words on the white fabric before he carefully donned it and the wig. He then put on the mascara, lipstick and nail polish before using liberal amounts of the eyeliner on the bags under his sharp eyes. He would have used coloured contacts too but the shop didn't have any. Pity. After linking one of the leashes around him three times through his belt loops, he tied the second around his neck and he added the third loosely looped on his person.

Heaving a deep breath, Clint tossed the rest of the now unneeded products and their wrappings in a random trashcan on his way back to the streets. He pretended to be admiring a shirt in a nearby window display so he could take in his reflection. It was pretty damn good for a last minute disguise. His shirt now read **I **(don't heart) **NY because I'm emo**. If only Tasha could see him now! She would laugh herself stupid (well, just smirk because she never actually laughed unless it was necessary for her cover) at the mere sight of him.

Clint boarded a bus headed north and considered his options on how to infiltrate the X-men's home base.

The only real advantage he had over the mansion's security systems is that they were more likely to be aimed at detecting a horde of mutant villains rather than one single human. It was another one of those moments that he felt proud to be just a regular Joe. It also wasn't the first time he'd be infiltrating somewhere without intel or Coulson in his ear. No. There was no way he'd be letting Coulson near his ear or any other part of him at all. Ever.

The hardest part about plotting, planning or even thinking was that no matter what he tried, his thoughts would invariably return to Coulson. How could the sharpest handler SHIELD he ever had not notice that his asset that he'd been fucking for over a year had fallen completely ass over tit in love with him? Sure Clint knew he saw things better from a distance but Coulson, not so much. Nothing ever really slipped him by. How could he not have seen it?

Then again, it just bought home what Clint always feared in his heart. No matter what he did, he was still a good for nothing circus punk who could never compare to a war veteran who was the pinnacle of human perfection. Why would Coulson want someone as needy and damaged as him when he could have Captain fucking America? Well, he obviously didn't. He'd cast him out like a drunkard at closing time and treated him like second-hand car he could use until he could afford the new one he actually wanted. It made his heart slump further and the only thing stopping tears from dropping down his cheeks as he stared out the window was knowing his makeup would run and draw unneeded attention.

After he sat in the bus for a while and trying (but failing) not think of Coulson, he knew he needed to find out how far away he was from the X-mansion. Originally he was going to charm a woman near him into borrowing her iPad but thankfully remembered he was now dressed as an emo and that probably wouldn't work. Instead he picked the pocket of the man in front of him, who luckily just had a swipe function on his phone and no password (what an idiot) so he quickly worked out he was nearly as close as he could get via public transport.

Clint thanked the driver as he stepped off the bus and considered hotwiring a car. Committing an offence while he was already on the run from SHIELD was probably already pushing his luck so he walked.

It was now the early hours of the morning so Clint had to make one last major choice. Should he break in under the cover of darkness now or do the polite thing by waiting until daybreak and knocking? It would be better for him to wait but chances are the Avengers would soon work out he was missing and it would only be a matter of time before SHIELD started tracking him. Plus he was more likely to be caught on a SHIELD monitored camera during the day. Well, it wasn't really a choice after all. Infiltration was a go.

Having memorised the map from that idiot guy's phone, Clint unerringly followed the streets to the left side (it would be the more shadowy side thanks to an almost full moon) of the mansion's grounds since surveillance was likely to be focussed on the front and back. As time was of the essence, he immediately began hoisting himself over the impressively large fence. He rolled as he hit the ground and kept his ears sharpened for any sign of alarm or possibly even automated defences. The X-men weren't stupid and would guard their home well. Hearing nothing other than his own breathing, he cautiously made his way to the wall of the mansion.

Clint vaguely remembered hearing that the mansion had been attacked by the army a couple of months back so there was no telling what kinds of improvements they could have made to their security. Knowing there would probably be more security on the bottom and top floors, Clint chose to scale the building and enter from somewhere in the middle. It took him a few minutes of shimmying around before he heard the distinctive sound of snoring. Bingo.

The window was already ajar and Clint carefully raised it up and slipped in over the bed without disturbing the teen who was almost muttering in his sleep. He then gently lowered the window back to its previous position and crept out of the room.

The hallway was well lit, much to Clint's consternation but was also mercifully empty. It was like a university dorm (yes, he'd actually seen one before on a mission) with names and personalised items like stickers and posters attached. This made it easier for him to find an empty room to bunk down in since he was now woefully tired. It seemed the late hour and the situation, exacerbated by the alcohol was finally catching up with him. Despite his frantic thoughts of Coulson and Cap plus his edginess at being in unfamiliar territory, he found himself quickly lulled to sleep.


	3. Awakened by Xavier

**A to X**

_Chapter Three - Awakened by Xavier_

Clint awoke, immediately alert, to the sounds of a knock at his appropriated door. The rapping occurred again and a warm, rich voice carried through the wood. "Good morning, Clint. I hope you slept well. May I please have a word with you?"

Quickly getting over his shock and since the male voice didn't sound particularly hostile, the archer padded across the room and carefully edged the door open. Although he hadn't met the man before, Charles Xavier's reputation preceded him and Clint doubted there would be more than one bald headed, wheelchair bound man in the facility.

With a gentle smile that reached his eyes and without invitation, the man rolled into the room and waited for Clint to shut the door. Before he did so, he noticed a few heads poking out from behind their doors and he swore to himself as he firmly closed the door. He turned to the man and really didn't know what to do or say. It was quite a surreal feeling for him after knowing his place and role for so long. He didn't like it at all.

"Please sit," said the man in a tone that was more like command than a request.

Clint hastened to do so. "I'm so sorry," he blurted without meaning to and he blushed. "I mean, well, I am sorry about sneaking in and everything but I, er, um, hi. I'm Clint Barton, Hawkeye but, erm, you already knew that, um..." Why couldn't he stop burbling?

Laughter peeled through the room and despite it being at his expense, it seemed to pacify him. "Calm down, Agent Barton," suggested the man who then carefully frowned. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that terminology would upset you. Is there something you would prefer to be called instead?"

Clint looked confusedly at the disabled man before remembering he was a telepath and might heard some rather unflattering thoughts at his name being spoken the way Coulson used to say it. He then swore a couple of times in his head before realising the man would have heard that too, which caused him to swear internally some more...

A hand reached out and fell gently on his knee, snapping Clint from his very disjointed thoughts. He barely quelled the instinct to grab and snap the wrist of its holder and although he felt the hand twitch in response to his instinct, it remained in its place.

"How about I start, hmm?" began the man with a smile, attracting Clint's eyes from the hand on his leg. "My name, as you have already gathered is Charles Xavier and although it is not common knowledge, I am the leader of the X-men. Welcome to my mansion."

"Hey," smiled Clint and he chose to cheekily mimic the statements. "My name, as you have already gathered is Clinton Barton and although it is common knowledge, I am, er was, a member of the Avengers. Thanks for not zapping my mind or something like that for sneaking into your mansion without permission. And, er, just Clint is fine." He smiled as he examined Xavier. The man sat almost regally in his wheelchair, which if Fury's files were correct, was a souvenir from a confrontation with Magneto. It was clear that just like with Tony Stark, the man had come from money but thankfully he didn't seem conceited or arrogant. There was a distinct lilt to his voice which was extremely soothing and Clint couldn't tell if it were due to an accent or lessons in elocution. Possibly both.

"And feel free to call me Charles or Xavier. Either suits me fine," said Xavier with a kind smile.

Clint gave him a smile in return. There was a knock at the door and a lithe red-haired woman silently entered the room. The door swung itself closed behind her. She was incredibly beautiful which was enhanced by her dazzling smile.

"Hello handsome, I'm Dr Jean Grey. We were never formally introduced last year at that joint assault against the Skrull Empire," she said soothingly.

Clint remembered it well. Those green shape-shifting freaks had tried taking over the planet by infiltrating every powerful organisation on the planet. Even the Avengers had been compromised. Sam Wilson (the new guy) was a Skrull from the start and although the archer had nothing to do with the invasion, the other SHIELD employees were wary around him for weeks since he'd 'helped' Loki previously. It was fucking ridiculous. He turned his attention back to the woman. "Yeah, things were a bit tense there. How's, er, Beast, was it?"

The woman's smile slid from her face. "That's correct. Hank was a little worse for wear after his incarceration but he always bounces back strong. The Skrull in his place was very persuasive," she said softly. Her eyes flicked to Xavier. "It's definitely him," she verified. Finally her presence in the room became apparent. He didn't hold it against her. She had a whole mansion full of mutants to protect.

"Thank you Jean," Xavier noted. He turned his attention back to Clint. "We can speak one on one if you prefer but I trust Jean with my life and she may be helpful with our, situation."

Clint thought about the offer and decided that since the woman was telepathic and already knew who he was, it would probably be best if she stayed. "It's fine," he said.

"Alright," conceded Charles whose eyes darted to Jean who stared back at the bald man. They stared at each other for a few moments and Clint assumed they were conversing telepathically so he waited patiently for them to finish.

When the pair refocused their attention back on Clint, he shifted uneasily on the bed. He didn't know where to start in his tale. He looked to Xavier, then Jean. "Do you want me to tell you what's going on or do you already know everything?" he asked.

Xavier smiled at the archer. "You may know that we are telepaths but you don't really know how that works. Contrary to popular belief, we cannot read your mind like a novel. Well we could but only if we forced our way in and you would be well aware of the intrusion."

"Don't worry, Clint. We would never enter your mind without permission. It goes against all our beliefs. We would only do so in the direst of situations," soothed Jean. "I can call you Clint, yes?"

The archer tried smiling but failed, so he nodded instead. "That's fine," he eventually stuttered out. He couldn't help the paralysing fear he felt at the idea of someone entering his mind again. The whole thing just reminded him of his run in with Loki. The loss of control still featured regularly in his nightmares.

Xavier seemed to sense Clint's unease and tightened his grip on Clint's knee. It startled the archer who had forgotten it was still there in the first place. "Even in those ominous situations, I'm loathe to force myself into someone's mind. There is nothing I treasure more than free will," stated Xavier firmly and Clint calmed somewhat at his sure tone. "However, a side effect of telepathy as such is that despite the years of training, no matter how hard we try, there are some thoughts we still can't help but overhear."

"Really?" asked Clint with surprise. He'd assumed telepaths were just nosy bastards. Perhaps they weren't as bad as he thought.

"Yes," answered Jean with pursed lips. "I heard you yelling at Loki in your head. What did he do to you?"

Clint blanched at the Asgardian's name. "During the Chitauri invasion of Manhattan, Loki invaded my mind and enslaved me. It was, pretty fucking horrifying."

Both Xavier and Jean gave each other stony looks. They seemed to converse again with their eyes.

Clint cleared his throat and drew the pair's attention back to him. "So I assume you're telling me about this because I'm mentally screaming at you?"

"Yep," chirped Jean. "I could hear something howling loudly. So loudly that it woke me up..."

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," squeaked Clint with embarrassment.

The redhead waved off the apology as unnecessary. "Don't worry about it, you can't control your subconscious when you dream. It was all jumbled up but what I did notice was how much pain the mind was in. I spent a while trying to work out which student it belonged to."

Xavier chuckled and then said, "Imagine our surprise when we worked out that we had an unexpected guest. That's not as rare an occurrence as you may think. What was surprising was that our guest was not a mutant." Xavier's eyes flicked to the doctor. "It seems there's a loophole in our security system."

"I'll get Forge right on it," nodded Jean who closed her eyes and scrunched her forehead in concentration for a few moments. "He's on it."

Clint blinked in surprise. Now that would be a useful skill in the field.

"Along with the yelling, I could hear immense exhaustion," noted Xavier. "So after a brief mental conversation with Jean, we decided to block out as much of the information as we could and let you sleep."

"Thanks," smiled Clint sheepishly. He felt bad about keeping the pair awake even though he had no idea that he was doing so at the time.

"What did bleed through," continued Xavier as if Clint had said nothing at all, "were some names and emotions."

"I remember the word Coulson was said the most," stated Jean thoughtfully, "followed by someone called Tasha. Then Cap and Loki. I didn't really pick up any others. How about you, Professor?"

Xavier sat in silent contemplation for a moment before replying, "No. I think that was everyone. Wait, except someone called Jarv. The intense emotions I heard were anger, regret, love, agony, despair, fondness, hatred and something that I felt like betrayal. Of course how these emotions and the people in question relate, we are unaware."

Although he could feel the tears forming in his eyes, Clint could find no way to force them away. "I, he... we, er, fuck, ah... we, we were in a relation... No, no, no, we had an arrangement. Coulson and I. For over a year. I stupidly, well, I couldn't help it. I thought we'd moved from fucking around to an actual relationship and somewhere along the way..." he trailed off with a pained noise. Tasha would have smacked him over the head for being this damn pathetic but she wasn't here. She was still in bloody fucking Canada when he needed her.

"You fell in love," finished Jean in a gentle, empathetic tone. She looked pityingly at him before making a snap decision. A few moments later, Clint found himself in the middle of a strong hug which he sorely needed and hated himself for needing it.

"Yeah. I always had strong feelings for him, right from the beginning when he was just my SHIELD handler," Clint choked out, as he extricated himself from Jean's embrace. "But then, that, that asshole walked in with Captain fucking America, the man he'd collected comic books about since he was a kid, and just announced they were a, thing, and they were all like happy and shit and expected me to be fucking happy for them too but how could I? The man I've had feelings for since he took me in, which morphed into love somewhere along the fucking way, had used me. Used me for some kind of cheap casual fuck and I, I, and I don't even know if he ever really wanted me at all. How many times was I deliriously happy and he was laying there wishing I was Steven goddam mother fucking Rogers?" He was basically yelling by now and Xavier placed his hands gently on his closed fists, showing his support. Which was just fucking crazy because he'd only met the man what, five damn minutes ago? To compound his shame, he felt tears streaking down his cheeks.

Xavier patted one of the fists gently. "Clint. You're going through a lot right now and we certainly don't need to get this worked up, this early in the morning. You're welcome to stay in this room as long as you like, it sounds like a change of location will do you good."

"Thank you," Clint said as he launched himself at the man and bear hugged him for all he was worth. No one had ever taken the time to care about him like this before. Barney was too busy looking after his own interests, Trickshot was just using him, SHIELD only wanted an assassin and the Avengers were his friends/family but by then he'd pretty much hardened his shell and kept them all at arm's length. Tasha knew him the best but she had many of the same trust issues and he'd thought he'd known Coulson but well that just went to shit. Didn't it?

Clint could feel a hand patting his back and it was rather soothing, if strange. He cleared his throat. "Thank you so much," he croaked out. He extricated himself from the prolonged hug and blushed as he sat back down on the bed. His bed for the moment apparently. "I am sorry for inviting myself in but I just couldn't think of anywhere else I could go to hide from SHIELD. Nicky will be hunting me down forever, Natasha even more so."

"Natasha?" asked Jean with a frown. "Is that the Tasha you kept mentioning last night?"

Clint blushed. He never called her Tasha in front of others. It had taken him a couple of years to earn the right to use it without getting punched in the jaw. He'd worn her down eventually but she would castrate him if she found out that others knew. He may just be a dead man now. "Yeah, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow."

"So that's the woman's name," said Xavier aloud to himself.

Clint's eyes widened. "Never tell anyone or she'll kill you, then me, then she'd resurrect me only to have the pleasure of killing me again."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were partners or something. Well, actually I thought you were dating or married or the like but if you were with Coulson..." she trailed off.

Rolling his eyes at the blatant fishing for information, Clint answered anyway. "We were never together (he was lying, they had one drunken night that they both regretted) although I think Tasha hoped we would be. We have sparred together often and work well as a two man team but one on one? She kicks my ass every time unless I get extremely lucky. I am flattered that you might consider me anywhere near her level."

"Yes," said Xavier thoughtfully. "You have extensive marksmanship, infiltration and espionage experience. Also, you wouldn't trip up any mutant scanners. Would you have any aversion to working with the X-men if we needed your help?"

Clint couldn't help but smile. "Nope. None at all. Quite the opposite in fact. It would be great to still be needed and useful. The problem is that SHIELD has their fingers in a lot of pies. Hell, in pie frigging factories. If I were to go out in the field, I wouldn't be able to use a bow. I'd need different weaponry and probably a whole new identity since being one of the Avengers has made me a, erm, a celebrity I suppose. A lot of people recognise me on the street and if I was caught on camera... I, I can't let that happen."

There was a thoughtful silence around the room. Clint felt the repercussions of running from SHIELD were hitting home with the mutants. He hoped, damn he really hoped they'd still let him stay.

"I think," Xavier broke the silence, "that could be arranged."

"Really?" asked Clint with both surprise and unconcealed excitement.

Xavier smiled at him. "Yes. The other X-men you've worked with know the Hawkeye you. Not the, what are they called again..." said Xavier. He glanced at Clint's shirt. "Ah yes, not the emo you."

"Oh my God," squealed Clint in horror. He'd once again forgotten that he fell asleep in his disguise. The man blushed with mortification before leaping up and staring at his reflection in a mirror which was sitting over the desk. His mascara and eyeliner had run all over the place with his tears and he looked rather horrible as a whole. A quick look at Xavier confirmed his suspicion that he'd ruined the suit jacket too. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Xavier. No that felt weird. I'm gonna stick with Charles. Yeah much better."

Xavier chuckled while Jean collapsed into giggles. "It's no bother," reassured Xavier. "I'll just get another one from my room. I always buy jackets in bulk. They tend to wear more than the pants." He wryly smiled at his disabled legs.

"So what will we tell the others, Charles?" asked Jean as she rolled her eyes at Xavier's poor humour about his disability.

"I think the best story will be that you're a friend of mine who's having trouble controlling your mutant powers and you've asked me for help," decided Xavier with a thoughtful nod.

"But I'm not a mutant," Clint said with confusion.

A calculating look came over Xavier's face. "But the others don't know that and really, it would be suspicious if you weren't. Consider it a deep cover assignment." Xavier scratched absently at his bald head as he thought. "I have a few ideas we'll need to discuss with another couple of friends of mine."

Jean's eyes narrowed before rising in surprise. "Well, it's a bold plan but with those two, it might just be possible." The mutant rose to her feet in a hurry. She gave Clint another brief hug. "Apparently," she sent a small glare at Charles, "I'm going for a quick drive to the mall to pick up a few things for you. I'll see you later." Without waiting for a response, the woman swept purposefully from the room.

"Might I suggest a shower to clean yourself up a bit?" hazarded Charles. "You might not want the others to see you this way."

Clint blushed again. "Sure." The man wheeled to the door. "Thanks Charles!" chirped Clint. When Xavier had left, Clint stripped and left the clothes in the bathroom. He walked back out and surveyed the room that was now his for the foreseeable future since he hadn't yet had the chance to do so.

The walls and ceiling were painted a pale cream colour which were thankfully dark enough not to remind him too much of SHIELD medical. The doors and floor were polished wood and the bed was rather large. Not Avenger tower large but way larger than that stupid bunk he had in SHIELD HQ. The windows were huge but were also lockable and the light brown coloured curtains were blackout ones so he'd be able to sleep during the day if necessary. The desk was large (wooden as well, naturally) with a comfortable looking chair in front of it. There were several empty bookshelves on one wall and blank spaces for posters and other decorative items on the others. A large wardrobe stood proudly to the side, waiting to be filled with a small silver bin sitting next to it, already lined with a plastic bag.

Clint looked at the closed door but decided against locking it and walked back in to the bathroom. If someone did walk in, they could just deal with the show. He had a feeling that room privacy was probably just as important here as it was in the tower where everyone had their own space but there were also communal areas to congregate in.

The bathroom was a plain white one complete with a shower and bath (one of Clint's guilty pleasures) combo, toilet, basin and mirror cabinet for toiletries. There were also hooks on the door for towels etc.

Clint was thankful to discover a rudimentary washing kit of generic soap, shampoo and conditioner plus towels under the sink and spent way to long luxuriating in the shower. After drying himself off, he left the towel around his hips and collapsed happily back onto the bed. His bed. He'd have to get used to the fact that he might be here at the X-mansion for a while.

A knock at the door startled him out of an impromptu nap and Xavier called out that it was him. Clint hastened to let him in and they were soon back in the positions they were occupying during their initial meeting. He noticed the suit jacket had been replaced and looked like the crying incident had never occurred over him at all. The only real differences to before was the lack of Jean, he was wearing only a towel and there were a couple of shopping bags, sitting on Xavier's lap.

"Hello again, Clint. You look much more refreshed now," the mutant smiled.

Clint smiled in contentment, "That shower was heavenly. I really needed it." He was unconcerned with his state of undress. He knew he looked great by most standards.

"Excellent. Well, I come with gifts," Xavier stated. "I took the liberty of organising some items for you that you might need to continue your charade." He handed over one of the bags which contained some permanent black hair dye, dark blue coloured contacts and a couple of black shirts, jeans, socks and boxer briefs. Just generic ones but somewhere to start.

"Thanks Charles," smirked Clint, "and just how did you know I was a boxer briefs kind of man?"

Xavier chuckled, "Well, I am telepathic after all. You can thank Jean for the speedy purchase."

Clint chortled too as he rolled off the bed and walked to his desk. He took great delight in throwing the hideous black wig he'd worn the previous night/morning in the bin. "Thank fuck for that." He retreated into the bathroom to don a new outfit. Just because he was comfortable flouncing around in a towel did not mean he was going to strip in front of the man who still invited him into his home after he'd already broken in. He returned to the bed and eyed the second bag with interest.

Rolling his eyes at the lack of subtlety, Xavier didn't hand it to Clint. "Alright, I've done a little research and found a missing person. He disappeared when he was thirteen. The boy ran away from an orphanage and no one has seen him since. His colouring and probable age matches up with you and if you find it acceptable, and not too distasteful, you could adopt his persona as your own." He peered questioningly at the archer, not really knowing how he would react.

Clint blinked a few times. It sounded like it could have been him. If it weren't for the circus, he'd probably have died. As weird as it might be, it was only a cover after all. Sure it was way more deep cover than he was used to but that's all it was. A disguise. Most of his SHIELD covers came from similar means. "Okay," he assented and couldn't help but notice Xavier's palpable relief.

Charles extracted from the bag and handed over a couple of printed out pages on the boy, Flint Robertson. Born in Pennsylvania, raised by a single father as the mother, Celeste, died in childbirth. There was a strong suspicion that the boy may have been beaten by his father but nothing was ever proven. The father, Luke, died from alcohol poisoning and from there Flint had bounced around the foster care system for a couple of years before disappearing completely. It really did sound like it could have been him and in a way, that made it a little easier to accept. Let the poor boy live a little through him since he probably didn't even survive to his fourteenth birthday.

Clearing his throat, Xavier said, "I tried to find someone with a name close to your own so that if Jean or I make an error (or anyone else you see fit to confide in for that matter) it would be less obvious to the others. They hopefully wouldn't even notice a slip."

"Thank you, Charles," Clint mumbled with sincerity. It was rather overwhelming that someone he'd barely met would go out of their way so much for him. He doubted even Coulson would have done as much and ignored sick swoop in his stomach at the thought of his ex's name. Was he even an ex at all since they only had that damn arrangement? Clint was brought out of his thoughts by Xavier's voice.

"Welcome to the X-mansion, Flint Robertson," said Xavier with a smile. "I hope you survive the experience."


	4. Assembling an X-gene

Hey. A quick shout out to **foxfire222** for my first review. Thanks so much! I hope you and everyone else enjoys the next chapter. Cheers, Jace.

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><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Four - Assembling an X-gene_

Xavier smirked at the newly christened Flint. He removed two black chunky gloves from the bag that was still sitting on his lap. They appeared to be even thicker than Natasha's widow's bite wristbands. "Your accuracy is unparalleled, even within the superhuman community, so it would make sense that your powers should be somehow related to that. As we're nowhere near prepared to showcase your mutant abilities, I want you to wear these at all times."

Flint grimaced at the pair of gloves before resolutely taking them and putting them on. They fit alright, despite their chunky size but he knew they would annoy the hell out of him in the long term.

"Some mutants have trouble regulating their gifts," said Charles. "Rogue for instance can't have skin contact without absorbing the other's life force. Another student called Surge, a lovely Japanese girl, wears metallic gloves to help control her electric powers. For the moment, all we need to say is that your powers are playing up, I gave you these to help contain them and that you really don't want to talk about it at the moment. The others will understand. After lunch we'll visit a couple of friends of mine in the basement and we'll cook up some powers for you to get used to."

Now that he had mentioned it, Flint was pretty damn starving which was almost enough to distract him from the word basement. Basement? Really? He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday and lunch sounded amazing. "Alright," Flint agreed.

_Attention everyone,_ Xavier's voice boomed through the air and yet it was not aloud. Flint realised it must be telepathic communication. _I'm with an old friend of mine who will be staying with us for a while. Come down to lunch if you want to meet him at twelve-thirty, sharp._

Flint raised an eyebrow when Xavier turned his eyes back on the archer. A light red tinged the older man's cheeks. "I'm sorry, I forgot..."

"Pfft," shrugged Flint. "It's not my first rodeo and I've been trained to adapt on the fly."

Xavier smiled at him. "You definitely are an incredible individual, Cl... Flint." The smile turned a little sheepish at the stumble but Flint dutifully ignored it. He'd have to get used to it too. "Now, lunch is a little over an hour away," Xavier said over his groan, "which should give you plenty of time to dye your hair and don the rest of your disguise."

Flint smacked himself in the head with one of his overlarge gloves. "Shit, I'd forgotten about that. I'll get right on it." He grabbed the products and all but ran into the bathroom. He'd definitely be cutting it fine.

"I'll stop by on my way so you won't get accosted by the others," came Xavier's amused voice from the bedroom.

"Alright," yelled Flint as he was tearing open the dye packet. He was extremely careful with the skin near his hairline, knowing the dye would stain his skin if he wasn't. The archer noted his door closing as he massaged the dye in. He didn't bother donning the cheap plastic gloves since he was already wearing the black gloves and didn't have time to spare.

As he waited for the dye to set, the ex-Avenger unpacked his very meagre possessions around his room. He made sure his gun was under the pillow and the c4 (plus the rest of his armoury) were stowed safely in the bathroom cabinet. The electronics scrambler was lobbed into the bin. It was doubtful he'd need it again. He suspended the man-bag from a hook he found on the back of the door and carefully removed the two photographs, placing them safely in one of his desk drawers. He'd have to buy a frame for the one of him and Natasha since he couldn't display the Avengers one without drawing the wrong type of attention.

When he felt he had waited long enough, Flint rinsed the residue out of his hair and attacked his face with fervour. He didn't want to keep Xavier waiting. It was a strange feeling. He'd never really had someone to depend on before with the exception of Tasha and Coulson. Why did he trust the mutant so readily?

The contacts he applied were brilliant really. As his eyes were already blue, they just darkened the shade. He wouldn't have to worry about accidentally saying the wrong colour if the subject ever came up for some reason.

Just as he was pulling on his new jeans, the knocking Flint had been dreading sounded at his door. Thankfully, he had managed to finish donning everything except his socks and shoes so he opened the door and started to make his way to the small collection of clothes in the wardrobe.

"There's no need for shoes if you don't want to wear any. Most of the others don't wear them around the mansion," mentioned Xavier from his vantage point.

Flint dropped the sock he'd just picked up back into the wardrobe. "Alrighty then, let's go. I could eat a horse, cow and monkey."

Xavier chuckled appreciatively as he led the way. He pointed out various amenities and such on the way to the dining hall. There was quite the ruckus coming from behind the double doors which died a large horrible death as the pair walked and wheeled in. Flint tried really hard not to smirk at the attention. His eyes fell upon Jean's and the grin he was trying to suppress bloomed in full.

The room was large and as expected since the place was a school of sorts, there were about fifty kids of various ages milling about or already seated at one of the six tables. There was a seventh table which appeared to be adults only but Flint was certain that some of them were sitting amongst the kids. Either that or some of the kids were definitely on steroids. Or mutated. Most likely the later considering they were, in fact, mutants.

Xavier wheeled himself to the adult table with Flint still walking confidently in his wake. The end chair was missing and Flint assumed it was the Professor's regular place. The seat facing the hall next to the empty spot was also vacant and Jean was next to it. Flint would have to thank her for saving him a seat. He almost sat in the chair but Jean gently shook her head and Clint realised he was supposed to stand for some sort of introduction. How embarrassing.

Unnecessarily clearing his throat for silence in the already quietened room, Xavier turned to face the room at large. "This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is Flint Robertson. I've known him for quite some time, since he was four actually as I was very close friends with his father before he passed away. His mutation has been giving him some problems and he has come asking for my aid. He does not want to discuss this with anyone at the moment and I do mean anyone. You all know how personal your mutation is and how it can affect you. Do not talk to him about it unless he asks you to. Do I make myself clear?"

There were mutterings of agreement from around the room and three very loud voices chanted, "Yes, Professor Xavier," in a deadpan tone, causing those around them to giggle. Xavier just rolled his eyes but his mouth quirked in amusement.

"Excellent," said Xavier. "Well, don't let me keep you from your lunch."

Immediately, the room descended into chaos. Conversations started up everywhere and Flint didn't need super hearing to know the majority of them were probably about him. Jean's smirk widened and he got the feeling the mutant sat on this particular side of the table to watch him squirm. She knew the keen-eyed ex-Avenger would see every glance in his direction. Bitch.

_You got that right_ said a soft whisper to his mind. It sounded particularly smug.

Flint glared in response but was distracted by the smorgasbord in front of him. Without further ado, he dived upon the salads and cold meats in the centre of the table, making sure that Xavier got whatever he wanted and started to feast. Using the utensils was a little more difficult with the humungous gloves but he survived alright.

When his hunger had abated, Flint finally took a better look around the table. Across from him was a dark skinned woman with silver hair. He'd worked with Storm once before a few years ago and was pretty sure her hairstyle was much longer back then. Next to Storm was a rather alarming looking man with some impressive sideburns. He had a bad feeling about him. There were some others further along but the one that stood out the most was a blonde man with large, feathery wings. They were extremely beautiful and for some inexplicable reason, he longed to touch them. Perhaps it was jealousy. He was Hawkeye after all and he didn't have wings.

A snort brought Flint's attention back to Jean, who must have overheard his assessments. "Anyway, this is Scott Summers, my boyfriend," she said aloud as she gestured to the man sitting on her other side. The man in question was frowning at him and his red sunglasses (inside?) glowed ever so slightly to his keen eyes. She turned to look at her man. "This is Flint Robertson."

"Charles just said that," noted the man coolly.

Jean rolled her eyes. "Fine. Be like that," she snarked before apologetically shrugging her shoulders at Flint. Her eyes narrowed at him and Flint assumed that she'd probably heard him think that her boyfriend was a dickhead. Oh well.

"Greetings," came a smooth voice, startling Flint from his unflattering thoughts about Scott Summers and probably saving him from the redhead's wrath. He turned to look at the chocolate coloured woman opposite him. "My name is Ororo, although I also go by Storm."

"Hi, I'm Flint. How are you going?" he inquired politely.

"I am well. It is a beautiful day today," the woman replied.

"Is that your doing?" asked Flint before realising that Storm hadn't actually told him about her powers yet. Oops.

The woman laughed regardless, a carefree, spirited sound which warmed Clint's heart. It was unlike any of the laughter he'd heard (on occasion) at the tower. "No, it is as Mother Nature intended it. You have already heard of me?" She threw him a piercing look with the almost benign question. She was sharp to be sure.

"Yeah, Uncle Charlie's told me a few stories about his precious X-men," Flint said as he heard Xavier choke on a bite and a loud snort from Jean. He couldn't help it. Teasing was just a part of his nature.

Ororo's eyes sparkled in surprise and amusement. "Uncle Charlie?"

Flint shrugged, "Yeah. I've been calling him that for years now. It's a hard habit to break."

Jean chuckled and leaned over Flint to say to Xavier, "You better make sure Flint stays here for a while. I like him."

"I'll see what I can do," said Xavier dryly.

Flint then gave Ororo a rundown of his new life to date. He was once again reminded how scarily similar the ex-Avenger and the missing boy really were and found the backstory easy to work with.

The mutant then filled him in about how the facility works. "Although you know of the X-men, this place is first and foremost, a school. Every adult here takes two subjects..."

"We don't," interjected a low male voice. Xavier identified the man next to Ororo as Wolverine and Flint could tell the man was a hardened killer. His muscles were almost perpetually alert and his stance showed that he could spring from his seat at a moment's notice. Flint could recognise a kindred soul in the man and met his eyes evenly.

"Yes, well, English is mandatory so I teach everyone..." Storm said with a glare, not noticing that she had interrupted the two men sizing each other up.

"So do I," interrupted Wolverine again, his smirk broadening.

Storm sniffed. "There's a vast difference between marking a large amount of essays and yelling from the side of a racing track that they're moving slower than old ladies."

Wolverine had opened his mouth but Flint interceded. "Not that I don't just love listening to the two of you flirting, I want to know how things work here."

There was an odd, metallic sort of sound and Flint found three rather long blades pointed in his direction. "We weren't flirting," snarled Wolverine. The mutant noticed his raised eyebrow and retracted the claws back into his body, while the woman's expression became inscrutable.

Storm cleared her throat and continued her explanation about the logistics of the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning. "As I was saying, most of the adults teach two subject areas."

Xavier added, "I take social studies and ethics although sometimes I lend Angel a hand with his business students." Flint assumed Angel was the guy with pearly white wings. "He's one of the prestigious Worthington family and I'll grudgingly admit that he has a better concept of business than I do. His other area is art."

Taking back the reins of the conversation, Ororo continued. "Scott takes on the onus of mathematics and occasionally physics with his long-time girlfriend Jean. She also teaches the other sciences. She is a certified doctor after all."

"Really?" asked Flint in surprise. He turned and looked at the woman who was preening with a superior look on her face.

_Yes. I studied at the NYU School of Medicine._ The disembodied voice said in his ear.

Flint chuckled. "I suppose that would come in handy with patching up your teammates."

"That's true," conceded Jean, "and in combination with my telekinesis, I can perform nearly any surgery by myself with extreme precision."

"Telekinesis, huh? Now that would come in handy for so much more than just patching up your teammates," said Flint cheekily, making his lewd meaning clear.

Immediately, he found five forks hovering in front of his face menacingly. His training was the only thing that stopped him from flinching away. If he could have six fingers broken one by one in an Estonian prison, flying silverware was the least of his concerns.

_You will not make such allusions to my personal life in front of my colleagues. Understand me?_ came the snarky command from the redhead.

"Nice trick, want to see one of mine?" Flint asked. Before anyone else moved, he flicked one of the peas on his plate. It ricocheted off two of the forks before hitting Jean square in the middle of her forehead.

Scott rose angrily to his feet as his girlfriend wiped the errant gravy off he brow. She looked torn between being pissed off and amused. Xavier was quietly chortling as Ororo observed the spectacle with unconcealed disbelief. Wolverine was regarding Flint intently and it took all of his nerve not to squirm under the penetrating gaze. He'd have to be especially careful around that one.

"How dare you..." began Summers before a hubbub of noise caught everyone's attention. There was a loud smattering of applause and some cheering from the students as a big, blue, furry mutant strolled casually through the masses to the adult table. Storm was already out of her seat and hugging him, with a delighted, "Hank!"

The pair greeted each other and Flint couldn't help but hear a nearby low growl. Hank's blue eyes fell onto Wolverine and a small smirk slid onto his face. He winked at the surly mutant before his gaze fell upon Flint.

Hank walked up to the table and greeted Charles with a firm handshake, which he then held out to Flint. "Good Afternoon. My name is Doctor Henry McCoy but I will not accept anything other than Hank. How are you faring on this rather auspicious occasion?"

Flint could only thank Tony and Thor for understanding what the hell the blue mutant was prattling on about. Tony would often throw random dictionary-worth words into casual conversation and Thor was well known for his odd phrasing of his sentences. "Hey, Hank. I'm Flint Robertson, although Flint will do nicely and I'm having a wonderful day so far."

Turning his amused expression Xavier's way, the mutant said, "I must admit I was surprised with the urgency of your call and having now seen this old family friend of yours in his rather, er, unorthodox attire I can now wholeheartedly understand the expediency with which you asked me to present myself at your fine institution."

Charles seemed at a loss of what to say so Flint jumped in. "Are you saying you're surprised that Uncle Charlie knows an emo?"

Hank couldn't help but chortle at the title and Xavier's sigh of resignation.

The man in question looked at Flint. "Are you ready for us to make a start?"

Flint looked at the man in confusion and asked, "A start at what?"

Xavier made a noise that was half amusement and half exasperation. "At helping you with your mutation, of course Littleflint."

It was Flint's turn to choke at a name. _Touché_, he thought to himself.

_Indeed_, came an unexpected telepathic response from Charles.

"Sure," chirped Flint as Ororo queried, "Littleflint?"

Xavier smiled. "He used to regularly beg to watch _The Land Before Time_ and his favourite dinosaur was Littlefoot. Littleflint seemed the natural progression to Luke and I."

Wolverine snorted and Flint couldn't tell if it was from amusement or irritation. Or both. The marksman rose to his feet. "Erm, what do I do about the plates and such?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, Flint," said Jean. "The students have a rotation of chores and cleaning the dining hall is one of them."

"Alrighty then, shall we get cracking?" asked Flint with a smile.

"Absolutely. Forge?" said Xavier with a glance toward the other side of the table.

An older native Indian man with mechanical prosthetics rose from his seat at the table. He seemed incredibly serious and dutifully walked to their side of the table.

Without waiting for anyone, Xavier wheeling away with the three men trailing in his wake. When they had left the eating area, Xavier suggested, "If you prefer, Flint, we could collect your things and sweep them for tracers so they will no longer trouble you."

"Sounds good," said Flint with a bit of relief. It had certainly been on his mind recently. Had the Avengers discovered him missing yet? Was SHILED already searching for him? Could they somehow track him anyway? Had Coulson stopped fucking Cap long enough to realise his asset had fled? He took a brief moment to enjoy the thought that he was the one to break the senior agent's perfect record of no rogue agents. Take that, you fucking prick!

Xavier sent Hank with Flint to collect his things from his bathroom cabinet so he wouldn't get lost. The blue mutant was an interesting conversationalist. He was up with pop culture references which left Cap (that bastard) completely befuddled but was well versed in science, technology and classical literature. He was also a goldmine of random trivial facts and Flint found himself liking the strange furry mutant more by the second. It wasn't until the pair were debating just how similar Jane Austin's _Pride and Prejudice_ was to one of Muse's latest songs that Flint found himself shunted (along with his possessions) into an elevator. It was probably for the best that Xavier had split the foursome up since probably wouldn't have fitted the four of them very comfortably.

When the doors opened, Flint was quite shocked at the change of décor. Gone were the wooden finishes and rich carpeting and instead a futuristic, metallic hallway greeted him. It looked much more impressive than anything he'd ever seen at SHIELD and that was really saying something. Hank ushered him down the hall and into the medical bay on the left. There were bio-beds, scanners and something that looked suspiciously like a cryogenic stasis unit. It made him think of Star Wars at any rate. There was also a host of computer screens spread around the lab. Tony would have wet his pants just being in here before trying to improve the tech.

Xavier and Forge were having an animated discussion about spheres, cylinders and discs but quickly ended their discussion when Hank cleared his throat.

Charles sent the pair a smile and waved them over. Forge had turned back to one of the computer displays and started tapping in earnest. "Flint, these two men are the brains behind the X-men's technology. Between the pair of them, they've designed everything in this basement from the bio-beds to the Blackbird, our stealth jet. I'm absolutely certain they will be able to help you, if you permit it."

"Of course," agreed Flint. He looked at the two men (Forge even looked up from the computer screen) and smiled. "So I don't know how much Charles has told you but I'm not a mutant." Neither man moved so he assumed they already knew. "I'm actually Clint Barton, Hawkeye, of the Avengers." Hank inhaled sharply and Flint felt a rush of relief that Xavier hadn't mentioned him by name in his communication with the doctor. There was no real way to know what communications SHIELD were monitoring.

Xavier rolled his eyes. "Naturally," he said with a touch of exasperation. "As you once said, 'it isn't my first rodeo' and I'm well aware of how invasive SHIELD can be."

"Oh," noted Flint somewhat sheepishly. "Anyway, Charles has graciously consented to hiding me here for a bit. Our problem is that I'm merely human."

Hank snorted. "I highly doubt someone with your extensive skills could ever really label themselves as 'merely human'."

Flint took the praise for what it was with a smile.

"Anyway," interrupted Forge, speaking to Flint for the first time. "This is what I was thinking of." He pointed to the computer terminal he had been using and tapped a few buttons. The lines of text vanished and a three dimensional display of one of the gloves popped up. Between the two layers of fabric of the glove was a vast array of micro-machines all jammed in together which fit around an exoskeleton. Apparently, the exoskeleton would attach itself directly to the fingers of the user.

Hank was already talking in technobabble with Forge as Flint examined the apparatus' specs. There was a release button on the inside of the glove, which would cause the chassis to unfold, allowing him to get his hand in and out freely but there was also a locking mechanism which would ensure the glove could not be removed.

When a lull had appeared in the inventor's conversation, Flint said, "This is amazing! How did you come up with this stuff so fast, Forge?"

The Indian man chuckled. "It's my mutant power. I can understand and build any machine. A strange gift to be sure, but mighty useful in certain circumstances."

Flint's eyes widened. "Oh my God, watch out for Stark. If he ever found out about you, he'd abduct you, tie you to a chair and dissect your brain."

Forge's deadpan expression settled back onto his face. "Actually, that almost happened once, just not with Iron Man and with a lot more torture."

"I'm so sorry," apologised Flint with a horrified look on his face. "I always say stupid stuff before I think. I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry about it," Forge waved away as he made some more adjustments to the glove. "Hank, what do you think about..." and the inventors digressed back into words that Flint had absolutely no chance of understanding. Ever. He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his left forearm.

"Flint," said Xavier with the most serious tone he'd hear from the paraplegic. "Can I have a word?"

Flint nodded but couldn't help but feel slight apprehension. Was he going to be kicked out for some reason? Had he done something wrong? Flicking that pea at Jean's head, making fun of Wolverine's blatant flirting, calling the man Uncle Charlie? Was it one of those things? Did he unintentionally stray over some forbidden line? He didn't want to be left to fend for himself after feeling like he might just belong somewhere for the first time in his life. _Please oh please, let me be allowed to stay._


	5. Acquiring to X-cess

**A to X**

_Chapter Five - Acquiring to X-cess_

Charles led the man to the other side of the room. "Flint, I apologise for not consulting you about revealing your personal information to Forge."

Shaking his head with partial relief and exasperation, the ex-Avenger smiled. "Don't worry about it Charles. How could he have been expected to create some mutant powers without an adequate reason to do so?"

"Even still, I apologise," said Xavier earnestly.

Flint shrugged. "Thanks but I trust you. For some reason, I feel you already have my best interests at heart." How was it that he already seemed to trust Xavier more than nearly everyone else? (Natasha would always have his implicit trust, Coulson? Not so much anymore.) He thought briefly about telepathic manipulation before chastising himself for his ridiculousness. Especially since the mutant seemed to know everything he thought.

"That was also another thing I was hoping to bring up," said Xavier calmly, seemingly not bothered that Flint had thought he'd been psychically influenced. "Yes, I did overhear that and it's something that I get the displeasure of picking up often. I have become somewhat immune to thoughts like that one. Anyway, I think it's in everyone's best interests if you receive mental coaching from either myself or Jean. That way your thoughts will remain your own."

"I like that idea," agreed Flint immediately. "Would I be able to work with you though? As nice as Jean seems, I already trust you."

Xavier smiled at him. "Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise."

The pair's discussion turned to more casual topics and Charles helped him scan both his possessions and himself. There was a small tracer in one of his firearms but after a quick examination, it proved to be inactive. Now that he would soon get these power gloves, Flint agreed with Xavier that he didn't really need the guns anymore and they destroyed all of them (instead of just the bugged one) in the lab's particle incinerator. Apparently, it was used to dispose of any used medical materials that contained traces of their mutant DNA. The archer tried not to dwell on exactly how easy it would be to use it to dispose of a body without a trace.

"Charles, Flint," called out Hank, saving Flint from getting chastised by Xavier, who had overheard the macabre thoughts and had opened his mouth with a frown. The two moved to join the other pair. "I believe we've ironed out the kinks."

Forge tapped a few buttons and the image of the glove moved. The mechanical parts inside moved in accordance and one of them looked like it had stabbed a weird circle looking thingy near the wrist. The circle changed to a sickly green colour before being flicked out of the glove through a concealed slit and into the fingers of the hand.

"I see you decided to go with discs instead of spheres," noted Xavier as he watched the animation with keen interest.

"Yes," acknowledged Forge. "So much more storage space available that way. It may take some getting used to but I think it'll do nicely.

"Our first concern was ensuring the discs could be moved quickly out of the glove," said Hank. "The last thing we wanted was for the acid or liquid nitrogen or whatever else to accidentally get lodged inside the glove. For obvious reasons."

Flint just looked at the blue mutant in horror who just shrugged unrepentantly in return.

Forge took over the commentary. "We also wanted to come up with a way to adjust the intensity of the chosen additive. For example, if Flint wanted to light a candle with the smallest of flames, he could. By injecting more of the additive, he could adjust the disc to explode into a large fireball."

"It took some doing," added Hank, "but we managed to come up with a synthetic plastic which will completely disintegrate almost immediately after cracking and exposing the additive to the atmosphere. The tricky part was determining a way for the gloves to hold the disc without breaking it prematurely."

"We managed to lace the material with another type of plastic polymer which will not interfere, well, in our simulations at any rate. It will require thorough testing first but we think we've covered all bases." finished Forge with a rare smile.

It was eerie to Flint just how easily the two mutants were able to think as one. It sort of reminded him of Fitz-Simmons, a couple of scientists he'd once met at SHIELD HQ.

"Excellent work, gentlemen. How long do you think it will take to construct the gloves for Flint?" asked Xavier as he steepled his fingers below his chin.

"I can have them ready by tomorrow afternoon, Charles. The evening at the latest," said Forge with a confident nod.

"I'd love to stay and help but I have a several meetings tomorrow morning including one with the President which I simply cannot miss," apologised Beast. He looked seriously disappointed that he was not going to be able to finish the project with Forge.

Xavier waved it away. "Don't be, Hank. I'm just thrilled you were able to stop by and help out on such short notice."

"Charles," admonished Hank with a smile. "You know I will help in any way I can."

"Why don't you give them a thorough examination the next time you're available?" suggested Flint somewhat awkwardly. He still had no idea how he was supposed to act around so many people in an already structured unit. Hopefully, he wasn't stepping over some sort of line.

The blue mutant nodded enthusiastically in the ex-Avenger's direction. "I most assuredly will, Flint." The man walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Although I do not know the circumstances through which you came to be here, Flint, I do know two things. First, whatever caused you to leave your team permanently must have been, at the very least, extremely traumatic. Secondly, despite that, if Charles has deemed you worthy enough to live here, that is enough to satisfy me with your intentions. It will be challenging for you to adjust from the mantle of an Avenger, adored by the public, to a mutant, who many believe to be the scourge of the planet. If you ever find yourself in need of any assistance whatsoever, I am but a call away."

Flint couldn't help but feel a complete surge of affection for the mutant he'd only just met. What was it about these people? How can they offer support to a stranger like there was nothing to it? He could almost feel the tears welling in his eyes and refusing to give in to them, he instead launched in for a hug which was immediately reciprocated firmly. What was wrong with him? He'd never been one for physical affection before. His family hadn't been very tactile, the circus-folk had kept mostly to themselves and SHIELD certainly wasn't a familial environment. Yet here, casual touches seemed to be almost commonplace and strangely acceptable. It was both unnerving and for some reason, seemed to give him an odd feeling of hope.

When Flint reluctantly pulled himself out of the impromptu embrace (which had been very warm and inviting) he bashfully smiled at the blue mutant. "Er, thanks Hank. I will."

The mutant winked at him in a friendly fashion, said goodbye to the other men and swept from the room.

Charles looked at his watch and exclaimed in surprise that they'd been in the lab for almost three hours. "It's almost time for dinner!" he added.

"Don't wait up for me, Xavier, I've got work to do," shrugged Forge before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. He once again reminded Flint of Tony and he momentarily wondered if he had any robot minions running around somewhere before deciding the serious mutant didn't seem like the kind of guy to make things for fun.

Xavier and Flint made their way back to the elevator.

"I think I might skip dinner and settle in instead," decided Flint as they waited in the carriage.

"That might be for the best, we don't want you all worn out in just one day," acknowledged Xavier with a smile.

When the elevator came to a stop, Xavier wheeled himself in the direction of the dining hall.

"'night Uncle Charlie," hollered Flint cheerfully as he reached the doorway to the dorms.

Without turning around, Xavier replied, "Goodnight to you too, Littleflint." Although Flint couldn't see it, the smirk was clearly evident in the Professor's tone.

Flint woke early the next morning and was ravenous. Maybe he shouldn't have missed dinner last night but he'd been so exhausted. He stretched in his bed and realised he'd hardly thought about Coulson, Cap or the other Avengers much at all the day before. He'd been far too busy and now felt strangely guilty about it.

Slipping into the shower, Flint noticed he didn't really know where the laundry area of the mansion was and he'd have to find out fast since he was donning the last of his gifted clothes. Perhaps a shopping spree was called for. Now that his hair was permanently dyed and he was stuck wearing those chunky gloves, it took much less time to make himself presentable. Well, as presentable as an emo could be. Just mascara, eyeliner and lipstick to worry about.

Breakfast time!

Flint felt like a dam had broken. Maybe he was trying to make up for the day before but he spent the entire trip to the dining hall moping over the Coulson/Cap situation. The man took a wrong turn somewhere but found his way eventually. He looked around in surprise. The room was almost comically empty. There was a small group of three sitting at one of the student tables, although he recognised one of them as Jean's douche of a boyfriend.

Flint helped himself to the breakfast bar on the side, taking a large serving of scrambled eggs (way better than the shit at SHIELD HQ) and the largest mug of coffee he could find. He folded himself into a seat at the table and greeted the others with a quiet but cheerful, "Morning."

Scott Summers nodded tersely in acknowledgement before turning his attention back onto his bowl of cereal. One of the students (a tiny little thing with bright pink hair and wings) blushed and squeaked out, "Hi!" before trying to hide her face behind her half-eaten slice of toast.

The other inhabitant, an Asian girl with ludicrous pink sunglasses perched precariously on her head, waved her fork excitedly with bits of egg soaring through the air. She quickly tried to scarf the mouthful she was chewing on and when she finally succeeded (while unconcernedly ignoring a disapproving glare from Scott) she slammed her fork down hard and threw out her hand for an extremely firm handshake. "Hey, I'm Jubilee and I love your arms. I mean seriously, they look like they fell straight out of a Men's Health magazine. Either that or a porno. Can I grope them a bit?" Her hands itched forward and she squealed with glee when Flint didn't move away fast enough.

"JUBILEE!" chastised Scott, appalled at the girl's behaviour. She ignored him.

Despite his best intentions, Flint couldn't help but laugh at the brazen attack from the teen. "Jubilee huh? Where did that one come from?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "My parents. I mean seriously, who names their kid Jubilation anyway? It's sadistic."

"So that's a nickname, not a mutant name?" asked Flint curiously. Xavier had been explaining the concept to him yesterday while Hank and Forge were brainstorming together.

Sighing the girl said, "It's both. My full name is Jubilation Lee and I make fireworks." She shot a few small paffs at the ex-Avenger, lighting the vicinity up in hues of blue and green.

Flint felt his mouth fall open. "That is so awesome!" he virtually squealed causing Jubilee to smirk and Scott's frown to deepen. It was only now that he realised the smaller girl had somehow left the table without him even noticing. So much for Hawkeye.

"So what do you do, er, what was your name again Biceps?" Jubilee asked before smacking herself in the forehead. "Wait, I forgot. Your powers are glitchy and off limits for conversation. My bad. Your name though?"

"Flint." Wait. Since he would be getting fake-powers, does that mean he'll need a fake-mutant name? That was certainly something for him to think about later.

"Mutant name?" the firecracker asked blatantly flaunting the fine line between following Xavier's request and trying to get some noteworthy gossip.

"It's a new concept for me. I don't have one yet," shrugged Flint. He shovelled another heaped spoonful of eggs into his mouth.

"I still vote Biceps. They're almost as large as Peter's except he's built like a fucking bull and you're not," decided Jubilee.

Scott sputtered and eventually started reprimanding the girl for her language when he eventually remembered how to speak.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Redeye," she said with an exaggerated yawn. Turning her eyes on Flint, she asked, "So what are you gonna get up to today?"

"I don't really have much in the way of luggage, so I was going to hit up the mall that Uncle Charlie told me about yesterday."

Jubilee started giggling while Scott began choking. Eventually Scott turned a withering glare on Flint. "Charlie? He actually lets you call him that? He hates that name." It was the first time the man had spoken directly to him. His disdainful tone seemed to validate Flint's immediate dislike of the man. What an asshole.

"Really?" asked Flint with genuine surprise. The disabled man hadn't seemed to mind the title. He'd have to ask him about it the next time they were chatting.

"Ignore him. That's what I always do," interjected Jubilee with a smirk. "Need company for your journey to the mall? My friends and I would love to come along. No one can show you around that place like we can."

"Jubilee," sighed Scott, "I don't think Robertson would want..."

Flint cut the other man off. "Sounds like fun but remember, I'm there to shop. If you or your friends get on my nerves, I'll ditch you. How many of you are there anyway?"

Squealing in delight, Jubilee started counting on her fingers as Summers sent yet another glare Flint's way. Dick. "Maybe seven if they all want to go. I'll check!" and before Flint could respond, she was gone leaving a very uncomfortable atmosphere in her wake.

"Look," said Scott harshly, since they were now alone. "I don't know what game you're playing but I've known Xavier a very, very long time. He's like a father to me and he's never mentioned you or this Luke character before. Just know that I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Flint didn't deign the threat with a response. He'd faced torture in remote Syria by political extremists and interrogations from Baron Von Strucker himself. This little chat was nothing. He just finished his breakfast wordlessly and made his way to Xavier's office.

Charles looked up from his desk with a smile. "Good morning, Flint. How are you today?"

Grinning in return, Flint said, "Great, and yourself?"

"Excellent. What brings you to my office this early on a Saturday?" he asked.

"So that's why the dining hall was so empty!" blurted out Flint to his immediate embarrassment. "Anyway, I mentioned to Jubilee that I was going to head to the mall..."

"And she invited herself along." finished Charles, his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, and her friends too. I was wondering if there might be a car of some sort I can borrow, if that's okay?" the archer inquired.

Xavier opened the drawer of his desk and extracted two sets of keys. He handed them over but warned, "They're good kids, well mostly adults now I suppose but they can be, er, exuberant."

"Fair enough." Flint wondered whether he could really handle it or not. They'd probably make him feel ancient.

"Just remember, you don't have a driver's licence yet, Littleflint," noted the bald man.

"Oh yeah, speaking of that, Summers was telling me that you don't let anyone call you Charlie. Should I stop doing that?" Flint looked on with a little worry. He didn't want to upset the balance of the X-mansion.

Xavier rolled his eyes. "As much as I'm not overly fond of the name, it's a little late to change it now." The archer's gut clenched. Shit. "But, it's beginning to grow on me so don't trouble yourself."

Flint couldn't help breathing out in relief. "Thanks, I was a little worried," he admitted.

"Yes, I heard," noted the telepath, "and on that note, can you drop by here at three this afternoon? I want to get started on your telepathic shields as soon as possible. I'm sure you'll want all of your thoughts private as soon as possible, correct?"

"Yes please!" cheered Flint.

Xavier's eyes drifted to the upper right corner of the room before moving back to the archer's face. "Jubilee and the rest of her friends are on their way, they'll meet you at the front entrance. I'd offer to help subsidise your purchases but I know you'll refuse. Feel free to get any large acquisitions delivered directly to the mansion. Go, have some fun and I'll see you at three."

"Thanks Charlie," said Flint before bouncing on the spot for a moment. Deciding to chance it, he ducked around the desk and gave the man a quick hug before disappearing out the door. It was rare that he actually wanted to initiate physical contact so when he did, he'd usually just go for it.

The front door of the mansion was left wide open with a group of mutants congregating just outside. They were chatting freely and enjoying the scenery of the front grounds.

"So, what's the game plan?" asked Flint.

Two of the girls (but not Jubilee) shrieked in surprise, one of which seemed to make his ears ring very uncomfortably. It didn't sound very humanish. One of the boys actually tripped over as he turned around too fast for his body. Flint smirked internally.

Naturally, it was Jubilee who filled the lull. "Shit dude, are you some sort of ninja or something?"

Usually Flint would have answered about being an assassin instead but that wasn't the best way to maintain his cover. Instead he went with, "Do I really look that Japanese?" He raised an eyebrow.

Jubilee shrugged, "Well if Tom Cruise can somehow get away with playing a damn samurai..."

Flint couldn't help but laugh. She was definitely quick on the uptake.

"Shall we go?" asked a guy who looked to be in his very late teens or possibly early twenties. He was extremely well built. It concerned Flint that there was someone who was almost as well-muscled as Thor. At least he was a mutant and not just a regular human. That would have been much more depressing.

"Yeah," agreed Jubilee. "Professor X said you'd have the keys. Intros can wait until later. Anyways, there's no better way to meet people than when you're trapped in a metal container, screaming down the road at barely legal speeds." She made grabby hands as she spoke and Flint slipped her the keys. She tossed one set to the muscleman (who easily caught them) and the group ambled to the extremely large garage. He would have been impressed if he hadn't already seen Stark's extensive automotive collection.

Soon Flint was cruising down the highway in a blue car full of guys. The muscleman's name was Peter and was an excellent driver. Despite managing to keep up with Jubilee and her rather uncontrolled driving skills, Flint had felt safe the entire time; a feeling he wasn't used to in a passenger situation. The other front seat was filled by a boy who was almost seventeen called Jimmy. He was pretty quiet and let the guy on the archer's left (Bobby) fill the almost but not yet awkward silence.

Bobby reminded Flint of Cap in some ways, mostly due to his earnestness. Normally a comparison like that would be a compliment but the leader of the Avengers wasn't really one of his favourite people at the moment. Hopefully this younger version would be more reliable.

It was a short drive to the mall and the group entered the building en masse.

Jubilee ("Just call me Jubes for short, Biceps") led the way and sighed contentedly. She looked at Flint with a smile. "I used to live in one of these, you know."

Raising an eyebrow, Flint couldn't contain his surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah although me and mall security, we didn't really get on that well," she said.

"Like that's a surprise," muttered the girl who'd been introduced as Rogue.

Jubes just sent her an almost feral grin and clapped her hands. "Alrighty, let's kick this show in the balls. Those of you who just want to hang out while we hit the clothes stores, leave now before it's too late."

Jimmy slinked off with Theresa and Peter. This left Rogue, Bobby, Kitty and of course Jubes in the shopping committee. They went through virtually every clothing store (even if there weren't any male clothes in them) and although the journey was long and extremely expensive, the constant chatter of the other three distracted Flint well enough. They were also quite useful for helping to carry his many purchases despite the girls practically forcing him to try on singlet after singlet to perve on his arms. He enjoyed the fact that at least some people out there found him attractive even though Coulson did not. It also made trying on clothes easier with his massive chunky gloves and let's face it, he rarely wore sleeves in the first place.

The agent seemed to crop up in Flint's thoughts quite a bit during the shopping extravaganza because Kitty and Bobby appeared to be a very new couple and couldn't keep their hands off one another. It was probably the only reason the guy had joined them in the first place, not wanting to be parted from his girlfriend. He and Coulson had never really gone through a stage like that. It was more fuck and leave. Maybe the agent noticed his reluctance to go when they were done or perhaps he felt the lingering touches Flint couldn't help. If he had kept his hands to himself, just maybe... No. That wasn't the type of relationship he wanted. He yearned to have someone he trusted holding him tight each night, not someone who would kick him to the curb when they were done with him.

Jubilee seemed to notice his lagging mood and the apparent source of his thoughts. "Oi, limpets. Halt the PDA already. You're gonna make me barf." She made some overly exaggerated retching noises and the couple guiltily split apart. Bobby moodily scuffed the ground as Kitty glanced around, ears pink with embarrassment.

Checking her phone, Jubes was startled when she realised that nearly three hours had already elapsed. "Food, now!" she demanded, leading them to the food court while simultaneously texting the others to meet there.

Flint indulged in Arby's for once, since he never really had access to it in the tower. For some reason, Stark disapproved of fast food unless it was from another country like Thai, Chinese, Indian or Mexican. "If I wanted a damn sandwich, Barton, I'd get JARVIS to make me one," was the usual response to his suggestion.

Wolfing down his turkey sandwich, he let the conversation flow around him. Jimmy had bought a few CDs and Theresa was fangirling over the latest Catwoman comic she'd just purchased and had already read about seventeen times. Peter had spent his time shopping for a gift for his sister but was yet to find something he thought was worthy. The only other not to speak was Rogue, since Jubes and Bobby never shut up. It was such a shame because the few times he'd heard her accent, he'd found it charming.

Now fed and watered, the eight shoppers headed back to the cars and made their way back to the mansion. As they were in the car, Flint estimated he'd spent about two and a half thousand dollars on his new wardrobe. He was a little saddened that the majority of it was black but it was necessary to maintain his cover. When he did buy colours, it was mostly red with a dash of pink. As much as he wanted to get purple, he knew it would make connecting him to Hawkeye too easy, so he slipped one pair of purple boxer briefs in and that would have to do.

The students helped him carry his purchases up to his room and plonked them all on his bed. They cheerfully wished him goodbye and went about their day. Jubes gave him a quick, friendly hug and a genuine smile before leaving to catch up with her friends. "Don't worry," she called from somewhere down the hallway, "I'll get the keys back to the Prof-man! See ya later, Flinty."

Wow. Two and a half grand gone. Just like that.


	6. Astral X-cursions

Heya. A small disclaimer I missed in chapter one. I only speak English (of the Aussie variety) so please blame google translate for inconsistencies. Any corrections are most welcome if Russian is your thing. :-)

* * *

><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Six - Astral X-cursions_

Flint managed to put the majority of his new clothes neatly into the wardrobe before he heard a voice not with his ears but with his mind.

_It's a quarter after three, Flint. Can I expect to see you soon?_

Flint looked at his new watch. Shit. He was very late. About to yell, he realised Xavier wouldn't be able to hear him unless... Maybe if he thought it loudly enough, the man just might. _ER SORRY, I LOST TRACK OF THE TIME. I'LL BE DOWN IN A MOMENT._

The archer could hear the amusement in the man's reply. _Excellent, although there's no need to shout._

_FUCK, I MEAN, ER, SORRY_. Flint dropped the shirt he was holding onto the bed and all but ran to the bald man's office.

Xavier smiled as he gestured to one of the two seats opposite his desk. Flint sheepishly took a seat feeling every little bit like a schoolboy in trouble from the principal. Not that he really knew how that felt since, yeah, circus.

"It will be easier for you, Flint, if we are in physical contact with each other," began the professor. He extended his hands, palm up, over his desk.

Flint removed his gloves and carefully laid his hands on top of Xavier's.

"Now, I think you'll get a better sense of what you might wish to achieve if you see my shields yourself." Xavier kept his eyes fastened on Flint's.

Feeling his confusion show in his expression, Flint asked, "Er, how?"

"It is well within my power to make a small connection between our minds. It will not be anything like what you described yesterday between Loki and yourself," soothed the bald man, having no doubt felt the tensing of Flint's hands. "I will in no way coerce you to do anything."

"I, I don't know if I can," said Flint quietly, looking down at their joined hands.

Charles nodded. "I understand, yet it will be infinitely more difficult to help you through the process without it and your shields will be much weaker." After a pause he added, "And remember, the stronger your shields are, the more likely you would be able to repel anyone else from entering and controlling your mind."

Flint weighed the pros and cons silently for a while. Although he hated to admit it, allowing someone he already trusted in to his mind to help prevent others from gaining entry seemed the most prudent course of action. "Alright."

"Close your eyes, Flint," instructed Xavier. _Feel the connection of our hands. Listen to the sound of my voice. Try to follow it through that joining._

Flint tried to follow the instructions to the best of his ability but found he couldn't really comprehend what was required of him. He tried several times to make the connection but botched it every time. Starting to get frustrated, he tried to conceal his annoyance but failed dismally.

_How about we try going about this a different way, hmm? _suggested Xavier. _What is your greatest strength?_

"My sight," answered Flint.

_I don't believe that to be true, however I want you to tell me that strength with your mind._

Flint's eyes were still closed and he tried to think of a different quality of his. _WELL I SUPPOSE I NEVER MISS MY TARGET._

_Say it again but at a whisper._ Xavier's voice was calm, yet firm.

_I never miss my target _repeated Flint.

_Good, that was much better_ complimented Xavier.

_Yeah! I'm getting better at this stuff_ thought Flint to himself.

A pealing laugh rippled through Flint's mind. _You are but I have a feeling you didn't want me to hear that._

_Shit! Er, how do I stop it?_

_Listen to my voice. I'm going to start getting softer and softer._ Xavier's telepathic speech did get progressively quieter._ Soon you'll have to strain to hear me. Try to follow the words if you can. Can you follow them, Flint? Or will they escape you?_

Flint homed in on the words. Despite his eyes being closed, he could sort of see a light getting closer to him. It made no sense since he wasn't moving anywhere.

_Good, you're following extremely well._

The closer he got to the light, the clearer it became. It was a bluish colour and it suddenly sharpened into the form of Xavier. He was standing on his feet with a wide smile on his face. He looked real and yet not solid at the same time. Sort of like a ghost. It was rather disconcerting.

_Welcome_ said the professor's form _to the astral plane. This is where my powers truly exist. It is a reality which sits within our physical realm but exists on a different metaphorical level._

Flint looked down at himself, seeing that he was also made up of the strange light, except his was purple. _Wait, so where's my body?_

_It's still next to mine, safely in my office. Do not be concerned._

Felling himself relax a little at the reassurance, Flint looked at the absence of anything around him. _Okay. It's a bit roomy here. Isn't it?_

Xavier chuckled and Flint could not only hear it but feel it too. It was strange. _It is impossible for non-psychics to enter the astral plane unaided. You one of a very select crowd to have seen this realm. Now, to protect your mind, you first have to know your mind. Look behind you._

Flint turned and saw a small red globe. It pulsed with electricity on the inside and reminded him of a plasma globe. _That's my mind?_ _It looks pretty neat._ He realised that every time he 'spoke,' the orb would pulse with sparkling scarlet light. After amusing himself by thinking random thoughts just to see the globe illuminate, he turned his attention back to Xavier. _That sphere thingy looks a hell of a lot less bloody than the usual brains I've seen splattered about._

Xavier's disapproval was felt strongly by the archer but otherwise he chose to ignore the comment. _As you can see, it lights up very nicely, doesn't it?_

_Yeah it does!_ announced Flint proudly.

_And that's why psychics are drawn to your mind_ said Xavier with a smirk._ It's just like an open flame drawing in a moth. _

Flint's mouth fell open. _Well that sucks._

With a chuckle, Xavier agreed. _Now turn around and take a look at mine._

Flint spun where he stood and gasped. Behind Xavier's blue form was a ghostly blue version of the mansion's grounds. Trees, paths, benches and even the fountain were perfectly positioned. Sitting placidly in the centre of the fountain's continuous spray was Xavier's small globe. Unlike Flint's, his was a dull dark red colour. _Why is yours maroon? _he asked.

_I've trained myself to keep my thoughts buried deep. Yours are on the surface. Hence the red. Now these pebbles,_ said Xavier as he gestured to a ghostly bucket of small round rocks at their feet, _are my mental bolts._

_You're shitting me!_ sniggered Flint.

_No, I'm not. Believe it or not, this is how I've chosen to represent them. Jean, she prefers to throw knives and I once met an unpleasant man who would hurl lightning bolts. I prefer the simple stones for that exact reason. They're simple. The less I need to think about my weapon, the more time and brainpower I can devote to defeating my adversary_ lectured the professor._ Here. Take one._

Flint selected one out of the bucket and held it carefully in his palm. It was virtually weightless.

_If you were to throw this and strike my globe, it would render me unconscious _said Xavier casually. _I've heard you have unerring aim. Prove it. Hit my sphere._

Flint could tell there was some sort of trick at work but he didn't know what. _If you say so_ he thought as he threw the rock (mind bolt) and naturally hit the globe with ease. It popped like a bubble and a loud klaxon sounded with flashing red lights. Out of the ground popped many missile launchers and machine guns. They fired immediately and just as the missiles were about to hit them, Xavier waved his hand and vanished them. The scene returned to its previous image and Flint couldn't help but sigh with relief.

_Sorry, I couldn't resist_ sniggered Charles. He smirked at the archer. _Everyone else's shields look different and so will yours in time. I want you to think about where you feel safe. It can be a real place or imaginary. I just want you to consider where you might stow your most precious possession. For now, just think of sitting at my desk and find your way home._

Without further ado, Xavier popped out of existence leaving Flint by himself. He freaked out for a moment since the astral plane wasn't exactly a picturesque place but the instant he thought about Xavier's office, he found himself blearily blinking in his body once more. That was freaky. He blinked and frowned before the world turned black.

Flint jerked into wakefulness discordantly. His body still felt drained but he knew immediately from experience that it had nothing to do with drugs; more like exhaustion. It took a few moments for him to remember his session with Charles and he only worked it out because he was still there, lying on the man's tasteful office couch. His psychic journey must have been what had worn him out so completely. It was twelve after three in the morning according to his new watch. How sucktacular.

Stretching out his back, Flint meandered back to his room (after re-donning those damnable gloves) and prepared for the day ahead since he doubted he'd be able to get back to sleep. While he showered he thought back to Xavier's mental defence. It made sense that the man would feel safest in his own home. Only he knew the particulars of the opulent abode and would know all of its hiding places. He definitely approved of the decoy idea. Very sneaky indeed. If an intruder did manage to survive the death-trap, they would still be stuck looking for the real mind/globe. He was also sure that disturbing the decoy would most likely alert Xavier to the intrusion and whoever was foolish enough to attack him would quickly become the prey in a place where the bald man had home court advantage.

Flint dried himself off and his stomach growled with hunger. Yes, it was definitely breakfast time since he'd now missed two dinners in a row. Tasha would have slapped him around the head by now if she were here. As it was so early in the morning, the dining hall was predictably closed. It took a bit of searching but the ex-Avenger found the nearby kitchen and raided the freezer. Ice cream for breakfast? Why not?

Flint was happily munching on his vanilla ice cream topped with a ridiculous amount of chocolate chips when he felt a presence behind him. It was human instinct to freeze on the spot. He'd seen it many times through his rifle scope in the age of pre-Coulson. The target would stop completely. Sometimes for a while, looking and listening for danger. Others paused momentarily before adopting a nonchalant attitude to try to trick the threat. Years of training were the only thing that stopped him from doing the same. He'd survived quite a few assassination attempts by remaining steadfastly in motion. The only part of his body that betrayed his awareness were his eyes which thankfully the other couldn't see from behind.

Luckily the gleaming steel refrigerator provided Flint a vague reflection to work with. The other was unquestionably male since a woman wouldn't be wondering the halls shirtless. He was also quite tall. Much taller than him. The figure extended an arm and the ex-Avenger's training took over, protecting him as it always did.

Flint immediately dropped the bowl and spoon onto the bench he was standing by. He caught the extended wrist sightlessly behind him with his right hand and used the strong arm like a pummel horse to flip over the man. Bringing his left arm up, he placed the man in a chokehold and pushed him forward into the bench he'd been leaning against. He unerringly retrieved the spoon and pressed the edge of it into the nape of the man's well-muscled neck.

To Flint's surprise, the man didn't struggle like most others in his situation would but his skin colour turned silverish. He also seemed to grow a little in size. The spoon clanked against his skin metallically and Flint realised that despite his superior positioning advantage, he was probably about to get the shit kicked out of him.

One metallic hand gripped his chokehold arm roughly and Flint found his limb firmly trapped. He knew what would be coming next and was pissed off that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. The man's/monster's other hand reached over him and gripped him by the back of his neck. He found the world swimming around him as he was hurled over the statuesque man into the refrigerator. Ow. When the room stopped spinning, he finally got a look at his assailant. The silverish man was awkwardly scratching his head.

"Flint! _К __сожалению__!_ (_Sorry!_)" he said and it was then that Flint recognised his voice. It was Peter. The man reverted back to his usual skin tone and hauled the still slightly disorientated archer to his feet.

"Huh?" mumbled Flint as he blinked his eyes, willing them to focus with their usual sharpness. At least he still had enough wits to keep the fact that he was more than fluent in Russian to himself. His grasp of the language had been sketchy before he brought Natasha in to SHIELD. After a few missions, she got too fed up with his lazy pronunciation and would smack him around the head whenever he screwed something up. She'd then force him to say it correctly nine more times. Apparently odd numbers are considered luckier than even ones in Russia. He was just happy she didn't go for fifteen, twenty-seven or ninety-nine.

Peter blanched and started muttering his apologies in English this time which Flint waved away.

The cobwebs finally seemed to have been swept away from the ex-Avenger's mind. Since it seemed like he was no longer in imminent danger, Flint retrieved the now-melted remains of his ice-cream as he listened to Peter bumble around the kitchen, still repeatedly apologising.

"Look, Peter, you're sorry. I get it. So just drink your coke already." The Russian opened his mouth but Flint cautioned, "If you're going to apologise for apologising, I'm going to hit you."

The man sheepishly grinned as he sipped from the can he'd extracted from the fridge. "Those were some impressive moves," noted the Russian thoughtfully.

"Yeah, my foster family taught me a few things," noted Flint airily. The diversionary tactic worked well and the other man took the bait.

"You grew up in the system? That must have been tough," Peter sympathised as the Avenger rinsed his now empty bowl out in the sink and carefully set it down on the drying rack.

Flint shrugged, still facing the wall. "It's not like I had a choice. Mom died giving birth to me and my asshole of a father OD'd. Shit happens." Well that was a conversation killer if ever there was one.

Peter looked thoughtfully in the other's eyes when he eventually turned back around. "Things got better?"

"I'm not really sure," said Flint somewhat to himself. "I thought they did. I found myself a great family and even met the love of my life. Turns out it was one sided and was dropped for a good friend of mine. Then this happened," he added as he held up his arms and started wiggling his fingers, thankful he'd remembered his cover story of an out of control mutant.

Peter just shrugged at the man. "You'll be alright. You're strong," he announced with a firm hand thumped onto his shoulder.

Tears came unbidden to Flint's eyes but he refused to let them fall. It was exactly what Tasha would have said and done. Why wasn't she here? He needed her so much. Before his thoughts could run away from him, the man unexpectedly found himself in yet another mutant embrace. He thankfully supressed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine at the half-naked, drool-worthy mutant's warmth.

"Erm, anyway," said Flint as he slid from the firm grasp. "I gotta jet. Thanks for, you know, not killing me with your bare silverish hands. See you later, Peter."

"Bye, Flint," the Russian replied with a small smile before the guy turned his attention back to the fridge, this time searching for food.

Flint headed back to his room and sat down to make a list of everything else he still needed to purchase. The first items he input into his phone were some paper and stationery. Typing everything into his phone was going to seriously irritate him. He added other things like photo frames, a couple of cushions, maybe a vase or two and a real coffee percolator (since he'd been spoiled by Stark's special blends for the last few years) with some good quality beans. He then added vodka and beer to his list too, along with a bar fridge, shot glasses and tumblers. Natasha would hunt him down and kill him if he even considered drinking out of anything less. Damn, he needed some ice cube trays too. Man kitting out his new room was going to take some doing.

Talking with Peter and hearing his small slip into his native tongue was a little nostalgic for the ex-Avenger. He'd been missing his best friend and confidante a little bit more each day. It had been a couple of days since he'd left and the espionage expert had probably re-joined the Avengers by now. He was certain that with just one look, she would know that he'd run away. Chances were that she'd take his disappearance into her own hands and hunt him down. He'd call to placate her but then she'd be forced to inform SHIELD. Well, that's if her phone wasn't already tapped and they knew before she'd even reported it. They really had no concept of personal boundaries, those bastards.

Flint wasn't really sure how long it would take the others to discern that he'd left (since Natasha wouldn't let them know - probably) but assumed it would be Stark who would eventually put the pieces together. Between Stark and SHIELD he'd have to avoid technology for, well, forever.

Later on, when it was a much more reasonable hour, Flint was psychically summoned back to Xavier's office. _So, have you thought about what we discussed last time? _inquired Xavier psychically.

_Yeah. A bit but I'm still unsure about what exactly I'll do_ answered Flint. He was just pleased the mutant didn't bring up his loss of consciousness from the day before.

_That's fair enough. I would like to point out that you're no longer shouting at me, so you're definitely making good progress_.

Flint smiled at the man. It was rare that he was ever praised for something that wasn't his uncanny aim. It was a nice feeling. _Thanks_.

Xavier held out his hands, like he had last time and Flint was able to enter the Astral plane much easier this time. When he'd reached the blue figure of Xavier, he noticed six other coloured blurs behind him. It was sort of like an indistinct rainbow whose colours were incorrectly ordered. _I've invited some others to help you see how each set of shields can differ._

Flint felt a little awkward at the idea of sharing his thoughts with six others when he wasn't even sure who they were.

_Do not concern yourself. They all agreed to help you out and each has sworn that whatever you may share, whether intentionally or unintentionally will remain between us._

Flint was still wary but decided to trust Xavier who had never shown him anything remotely duplicitous since the archer's unexpected and uninvited arrival to his home. _Alright. Let's do it_.

_Now, you're not to try to find their mind/globe as such without their permission. I just want you to see what defences you could employ with your own. In fact, what I want you to do is try to determine who each person is. If you can._

Flint nodded his assent as a light blue blur moved forward.

The Astral plane shimmered and a large but beautiful snow globe appeared. The snow whirled around at a fast pace around a collection of houses which appeared to be an ordinary American suburban street. There were a collection of snowmen around the houses and many windows were adorned with Christmas lights. It was a truly beautiful scene.

_So_ wafted over a disguised voice. _Who do you think I am?_

Flint thought about it. He didn't really have any idea at all. _Um, I'm not really sure. I suppose you're female since it's a bit girly but other than that, I have no idea._

The blur shimmered into existence and Flint was surprised to find Bobby standing there with an unamused look on his face. _Girly?_

Shrugging unapologetically, Flint gave him a small grin.

_Now Bobby_ floated Xavier's voice _do you mind if Flint tries to enter your mind?_

_Be my guest_ smirked Bobby and Flint had a bad feeling about this. He gently knocked on the outside of the snow globe but it felt more solid than steel. He applied more force but the glass seemed impenetrable.

_As you can feel, substances may not be consistent with real life_ tutored Xavier patiently.

Flint stepped back and the image faded. Bobby stood beside Xavier as a silver blur moved up. The Astral plane shimmered again and before Flint was an immense silver farm field with an inordinate amount of hay bales. _Obviously, this particular mutant chose to hide his mind/globe like a needle in a farm full of haystacks. An effective tactic_.

The silver blur moved closer. _Who am I, Flint?_

_Someone farmy, I suppose. No idea._

_What if I mentioned... P__ано __утром __закуски__? (An early morning snack?)_

_I have no idea what you just said but it sounded Russian. Peter? _Flint thought. The blur immediately sharpened.

Before anything else could be said, a large yellowy shopping mall came into existence.

_This one has to be Jubilee's_ mused Flint.

The yellow girl appeared delighted that he'd remembered her previous residence but her grin turned wicked. _Why don't you try to get to my mind?_

Flint regarded the mall in front of him. The globe was prominently displayed at the top of the second floor. Flint stepped on the up escalator but when he got halfway up, it dumped him gracelessly back onto the floor with a psychic grunt. _Well, that was uncalled for_ he though as the girl giggled along with Bobby and Peter.

_Just call me the trap mistress._

That caused Flint to snort in amusement.

A pink world took the place of the yellow mall. It was a tiny in comparison to the others, just a small room. It was, however, filled with multi-coloured three-dimensional shapes. This was the first time he'd viewed a scene that had more than one colour in it, so it was a bit difficult to look at. When he was finally able to focus his eyes, he realised the colours were gradually changing, as were the shapes. They did seem to follow a pattern so eventually, every shape would at one point become the maroon mind/globe. _This has got to be some sort of professional telepath and the only other one besides Uncle Charlie that I can think of is Jean._

_Correct_ came the bubbly reply from the pink shape as the pink world darkened in colour.

The red scene was also small but looked dangerous. It was spherical in shape like the snow globe had been but was made of mirrors. Ordinarily that wouldn't be that worrisome for the ex-Avenger. What did concern him was the refracting red laser beams that were moving around the sphere in an unpredictable manner. He had a feeling touching them would hurt. He had no idea who this one belonged to and soon met Summers' smirking face. He supposed it figured since the man could only see in red. He'd have to come up with something better just to show the idiot up.

The last one was Flint's favourite of all. It was simplicity itself. In front of him stood a massive fifteen by fifteen square Rubik's cube. Each square held a symbol such as a circle, octagon or parallelogram. Who was smart enough to come up with such a brilliant strategy? The combination of brains and the dark blue colour gave him an idea. _Is this Hank's mind?_

The furry mutant fizzled into focus with a smile. _Indeed, you are correct, young Flint._

_Hank. That's freaking amazing. I know all I need to do is solve it but I never could._

_I live to cause consternation _smirked Beast.

_Of course you do_ Flint chuckled.

Xavier drew everyone's attention back to himself. _Thank you everyone for your cooperation, I'm sure Flint is most grateful._ Flint nodded in agreement_. And Flint, I hope this has given you much to consider. Tomorrow, we'll work on erecting shields of your own._ The other people fizzled out of existence.

As Flint returned back to consciousness (much more easily this time) he smiled. He had a couple of ideas for his shields and looked forward to trying them out. Speaking of trying new things out, he was also looking forward to the afternoon. Forge had said he'd be finished working on his 'power gloves' (as the Indian man had simplistically named them) by then. He was gonna be a fake mutant soon!


	7. Acidic X-planations

**A to X**

_Chapter Seven - Acidic X-planations _

Later that afternoon, there was a quiet knock at Flint's door. He hoped it would be Forge and wasn't disappointed. The Native American man led him back down to the basement. Apparently the mutant had just finished the prototype of his power gloves and wanted to give them a controlled test run.

The pair collected the gloves from one of the labs and took them to what Forge called the Danger Room. The Native Indian man was performing a final check of the gloves as Flint struggled to remove the fake ones he'd been almost constantly wearing. In fact, it felt a little strange to be without them. Forge showed him where the hidden buttons on the chassis were located and helped him to put the new ones on.

When the gloves were sitting comfortably and Flint had been briefed several times as to where the emergency release catches were, Forge left the large, spacious room and appeared a little later in the control room which overlooked the cavernous metallic room. "Alright," his voice said through the speakers, "Let's work our way from right to left. There are eight different chemical compounds designed to create different effects, much like how your quiver held arrows of different functions. Now, you're ambidextrous, correct?"

"Yeah, although I do favour my right hand," answered Flint, who was still examining his new gloves. He'd be lying if he claimed to have been listening patiently. He just wanted to try them out already!

"Good. That's why I outfitted your right hand with the more offensive of your applications. Plus I tried to place the most useful traits on your index and middle fingers but we can change the layout of the compounds at a later date if necessary," said Forge. A few moments later, some small targets appeared around the space, hovering listlessly in the air.

Flint had a strong suspicion that they were holographic. The archer walked up to one and rapped on it. He was quite surprised to find it both looked and felt solid, unlike Stark's holographic technology. "Amazing!" he mumbled as he moved to the circle that glowed a dull red in the centre of the room.

"Thanks," said Forge's computerised voice. "Alright, gently tap your right index finger to the middle of your palm once."

Flint did as was commanded and to his surprise, a small disc (the size of a penny) flew out of a well-hidden slot and tumbled to the floor. When it connected, it erupted into a small flame which burnt for less than a second before disappearing completely.

"Now try it again and this time catch the disc," commanded Forge.

It took Flint four attempts before he managed to hold onto one of the elusive discs. He was extremely thankful that it didn't burst into flames in his hands like he thought it might.

"Excellent. You obviously noticed the ten random targets around the room." Flint found Forge's deadpan delivery of what would sound like sarcasm with anyone else's voice amusing but he tried not to show it. "Each time you hit one, it will disappear. As soon as you've cleared the room, we'll move on."

For Flint, the difficult part was catching the rapid-fire discs. Aiming and throwing them were a breeze after years of archery and knife-throwing practice. He then moved on to his middle finger which froze the targets over and then the ring finger which emitted small clouds of light green gas. Forge informed him that it was to safely neutralise organic targets but would have to be headshots to be effective, while the small electronic surges of his pinkie finger were designed to negate electronics.

By this stage, catching the discs had become much easier for Flint. They then worked with his left glove which had more utilities than purely offensive applications. However this time, he was to add an extra touch of his finger for each target. So when his index finger produced a small flash-bang with one press, by five it was quite impressive and at ten it would be enough to disorient a full team if necessary. His middle finger controlled a smokescreen that became thicker with the extra doses to the point where even he couldn't see through it and let's face it, his vision was practically unparalleled. This left his ring and pinkie fingers which contained a small-scale sonic explosion and dissipating acid respectively. Forge had cleverly designed each effect to be temporary and leave no trace, that way it would be harder for organisations like SHIELD to track him and link him back to the Avengers.

"Fantastic work, Flint. Your reputation as an unparalleled marksman is well-earned." Despite having heard such comments at SHIELD many times, Flint felt a warmth rush through him at getting the serious, yet straightforward man's approval. He knew it wasn't just a throwaway remark. Forge genuinely meant it.

"Thanks Forge," smiled Flint.

"Now, I want you to wear those gloves for the next two days, without fail. It will be good for you to remember that you are now a weapon at all times, just like regular mutants. Actions you might otherwise have had no problems with before may now cause you difficulties you'd never even dreamed of," instructed Forge.

Flint nodded his head in earnest.

"You must also remember that you do not have unlimited ammo, so don't go overboard in front of the others. If you feel a gentle pulsing on the tip of one of your fingers, you're out of that particular compound," said Forge seriously. "If you somehow do manage to run out of discs, the mechanism will fuse so that the compounds won't be released on their own in your gloves."

"Okay," noted Flint as he flicked a couple of smokescreen discs errantly around the room.

"After a couple of days of self-discovery, I'll show you how to recharge the compounds safely," said Forge, "Then, I suggest that you organise a time to work with a few of the X-men. That way you can get used to operating within a team of mutants and we can iron out any kinks with your power gloves. Those involved in your testing phase should be made aware of your situation though."

Flint blanched. He knew that eventually the others would start to find out his real identity but he certainly didn't want it to happen this fast.

"Look," said Forge with a sigh. "I understand that you want to keep your identity under wraps but to work within the X-men effectively, at least a few of them should be informed of who you really are and your specific skills. Otherwise you're just setting the team up for failure."

"I know, I know," Flint grudgingly agreed with a growl.

"My suggestions for a three man team are as follows. Firstly, Jean. Charles mentioned that she already knows and she's a medic, an asset to have on hand in the early stages of mechanical development. Especially one that has telekinesis. The other two I'd propose are Storm and Cyclops because they're the two team leaders."

Flint frowned at the suggestion of Cyclops, who he was pretty sure was Summers. The last person he wanted knowing about his lack of powers was the irritating man who clearly thought the sun shone out of his own ass. "I'll take your suggestions under advisement," he agreed warily.

"Excellent," noted Forge. "We're done so feel free to leave whenever you like."

There was a soft click which led Flint to believe that Forge had shut off the open comm link. How was he supposed to thank the man for his help now? As much as he wanted to try out his new powers, he didn't want to waste them unnecessarily. Especially since they were limited, just like his arrows were. He already knew just how irritating being out of ammo could truly be.

Flint left the basement and ate some dinner. He selected a rather delicious steak to consume and sat with Jubes, Peter, Storm, some other kid he'd not met yet and a green, er, thing. Sort of a lizard guy. A bit strange but whatever, the Chitauri were weirder.

"Hey," he announced before sitting down and attacking his food.

There were a chorus of greetings from around the table.

"How are you settling in?" asked Storm with a warm smile.

Flint sent her one of his dazzling smiles. "Well enough. Everyone, er, nearly everyone's really nice here. It's a little strange actually. I've never met so many happy people. I'm sort of still waiting for something truly repulsive to happen like some sort of ritualistic slaughter of undead sheep or something."

Peter started chuckling while Storm looked on in what he could tell was concealed amusement. The nameless girl sprayed her peas across the table all over the lizard boy. Flint tried not to snicker at how camouflaged they would be on the green-skinned mutant. It was Jubilee who spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry. You haven't been here long enough to enjoy our Sunday Sacrificial Special. Wait, never mind. You're already eating the remains."

Flint, Peter and the green guy laughed out loud (despite the fact that the green guy was still trying find all of the pea residue) while Storm allowed herself a small chuckle.

"I thought this steak tasted a little dead," added Flint to the table's continued amusement.

Over the course of his meal, he learned many things like how if Storm manipulates the weather too much, it can change localised meteorological conditions to such an extent that just using her powers could upset the weather on a global scale. Seriously, fuck that. The other girl's name was Danielle and had some sort of psychic/nightmare powers. The green guy apparently regrew an arm that had been ripped out, which was why it was disproportionate in size to the smaller, more normalish looking one. Jubilee could speak fluent Mandarin Chinese despite growing up in Beverly Hills and Peter was turning twenty-two in a few weeks.

Just as he was about to take one last bite of his steak, he noticed his fork had somewhat dissolved and lay in bits and pieces under his hand. "Oh shit," he muttered to himself as he looked for a cloth or something to clean it up with.

Naturally Jubes was the first to notice. She snorted with laughter. "What did that poor, innocent fork ever do to you, Biceps?"

"Hey," spluttered Peter, "_мои бицепсы больше, чем его!_" (_My biceps are bigger than his!_) Flint's years of espionage experience were the only thing that stopped him from laughing aloud at the petty whinge.

Jubilee raised an eyebrow at the Russian. "I don't know what you just said but I hope it was dirty."

It was the green guy's turn to accidentally spray out some food, causing the table to laugh once more.

Flint retrieved a cloth plus a new fork from a nearby table and fixed up his mess. He'd have to pay more attention to his left hand utensils now that he had a portable acid generator in his gloves.

Taking another bite of steak, Flint pretended to ignore the stares he was receiving from his tablemates. His money was on Jubilee to crack first. He managed to eat four more bites of his steak before his eating was interrupted. "_Как ебать ты это сделал?_" (_How the fuck did you do that?_)

Flint really didn't know how he managed not to laugh this time. "Er, what?" he asked with what he hoped was a polite look of confusion.

Peter shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. "Sorry. I said, how did you do that?"

"Well, it was, er, a power malfunction," Flint blushed. Really, he should have known better. He had been warned about this after all.

Jubilee squealed loudly. "Does that mean you're ready to talk about these awesome powers of yours?"

Flint couldn't help but roll his eyes and said, "I suppose," as if it were a huge chore. He could virtually feel the flutter of interest around the table. "I make mini-discs."

There was a deafening silence in his announcement's wake. Eventually, Ororo calmly inquired, "Mini-discs?" with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, one of these. You know, if I can get it to work," the ex-Avenger said with a wry grin. He made an ice disc and was extremely pleased that he managed to catch it. Missing it would have been totally embarrassing. He held up the small light blue disc for them all to see. Jubilee made grabby hands at it but Flint shook his head. "If anyone but me touches it, it'll go off and I don't want you to get hurt."

Jubilee pouted for a moment before saying, "That can melt spoons and such?"

"Watch and find out," smirked Flint as he flicked the disc up into the air. It seemed to hover for a moment before falling right into the girl's glass, causing the water within to freeze.

"That's not very melty, is it?" she pondered as she leant forward and stared intently at the frozen liquid. She gave a small shriek when another small disc (black in colour this time) fell into the glass and a small cloud of darkness wafted up.

Peter and the green guy were laughing at her girly scream. It was very unlike her.

"That still wasn't melty," she pouted and sent Flint a withering glare. "Alright explain how it works and why you were broken. Now."

The archer raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're not an interrogator in disguise?" She just glared in response. "Apparently so." He cleared his throat to take a brief moment to collect his thoughts. "So I make discs that explode with different stuff. At first I could only use fire and ice but a few weeks ago, different things started happening instead and I freaked out. So I came here because Uncle Charlie helps everyone else and I didn't really have anyone else to go to."

There were sympathetic nods around the table and Flint gave an internal sigh of relief. His story must have sounded believable.

"So what happened to the fork then?" asked Danielle. Her head was cocked to the side in thought.

"A-acid?" squeaked out Flint with a little embarrassment.

"So," stated the green guy, "you have ice, fire, smoke and acid in there. That's crazy," he said with what sounded like a little jealousy.

"Among other things," smirked Flint at the guy who glanced aside. His green cheeks darked a little which he found adorable. He was about to rib the poor guy but was stopped in his tracks by a loud telepathic message.

_Flint, I need to see you in my office immediately_ ordered Xavier in an uncharacteristically growly tone.

"Sorry guys, I've been summoned by the voices in my head," the archer said with a somewhat strained smile. Truth be told he was a bit concerned for Xavier. He'd sounded anything like his usual calm yet happy self. Bidding the others at his table adieu, he quickly deposited his dishes and cutlery (well, the ones that weren't goop due to an unexpected acid bath) onto the designated trolley.

The ex-Avenger strode purposefully to the Professor's office. How could he still be in that damn box of a room this late on a Sunday night? Seriously? That's almost as obsessive as Tony Stark which proves just how workaholic-ish he was being.

"Come in, Flint," came the muffled voice of Charles Xavier before he could even knock.

"You rang?" said Flint with a slight smile. The bald man seemed physically alright and his breathing was even so whatever had gotten him so worked up before might not be as bad as he'd originally expected. He was waved inside and to a chair.

"Yes. I apologise for disturbing your dinner but I thought you'd want to know immediately. I just had a, discussion, with one Nick Fury," imparted Charles.

Flint's eyes widened but gave no other indication that he was in any way affected by the news. "And?" he prompted flatly.

Xavier inhaled deeply before saying, "Don't worry. He doesn't know you're here."

The ex-Avenger heaved a sigh of relief before growling aloud. "Thank God. You had me worried there for a second. He can't find out. You know, there's a whole host of people in this damn mansion who could probably sell my identity for a vast sum of money to the right people. I really, really, really need to learn how to shield my mind and it's really starting to piss me the fuck off that I still can't do it."

"Look, I understand how frustrating this is for you," began the psychic and he held up a hand when Flint was about to interrupt him, "but how about we have one conversation at a time, hmm?"

Flint glared a little at the man before jerkily nodding his assent.

"Basically Fury is searching for two of his best agents which have gone AWOL. He has no idea where either can be found and he's hoping to keep the matter quiet." Xavier tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Are you expecting company? Because harbouring one SHIELD agent from Director Fury will be challenging enough but hiding two..."

Flint accidentally tuned out the older man when his heart began to race because COULSON. It had to be Phil looking for him because he missed him, right? But him looking for Clint Barton wouldn't be an off book mission. If anything, it would be completely by the book. He went from holding a small, warm bubble of hope to feeling his entire insides fall out beneath him. It wasn't Coulson. It couldn't be...

"Flint?" said Xavier with a touch of concern.

The man in question blinked for a moment before refocussing his attention back on the mutant he was sitting across from. "Sorry, what?" he asked in confusion.

The professor gave him a small smile. "Are we expecting the Black Widow to join us?"

"TASHA?" Flint shrieked in a very unmanly way. His heart practically stopped. SHIELD he could run and hide from. Natasha? Not so much. He was one hundred and ten percent doomed. "N-no. I'm not expecting her to live here or anything but chances are she ran away to find and kill me." He blanched at the thought.

Xavier steepled his fingers below his chin. "How long do you think it will take her to locate you?"

Flint shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere from hours to years. All I know is that she'll never give up unless she finds me or my rotting carcass. Either way, she'll punch the living or not so living daylights out of me when she does."

Snorting in amusement, Charles added, "Well, out of everyone at the mansion, only Storm and Jean had any real contact with the woman. They were the two that joined the Avengers on that mission last year."

"I remember," noted Flint. "Ororo hasn't made the connection between Flint and Clint yet but Forge suggested that in a couple of days, I should train with a few X-men to get used to mutant team dynamics. He also suggested that the people in the exercise should know the truth about me and she was one of them names that he floated. What do you think?"

Xavier nodded. "That sounds reasonable enough if you are comfortable with her knowing. I can personally vouch for her although I'm sure you've already made your own assessments of her character. Who else were you thinking of involving?"

"Jean," said Flint. "She already knows and can help out if the gloves explode or something." Charles nodded in agreement. "The last one was Forge suggested is Summers but I'd prefer not to work with him yet, if that's possible." He frowned just at the thought of Jean's irritating boyfriend. Now that was one guy he could live without seeing again. Laughter brought the man back to the present and he realised the telepath must have been hearing him again.

"Look, Littleflint. If you don't want to work with Scott yet, that's fine," assured the professor. "However, you will have to eventually deal with him in the end. That said, there are only a few other candidates I would advise. Firstly, you could use Angel although the man has little experience in the field. Another option could be one of the older students like Rogue, Kitty, Peter or Jubilee but I'm not sure if you would like any of the younger ones to know the truth about you."

"Yeah, not if I can help it," muttered Flint to himself. "Hey, what about Wolverine? He looks like he knows how to fight."

"Oh he most certainly does," agreed Charles, "but I strongly advise against it."

Flint frowned at the disabled man. "Why not? Don't you think I can take him?"

"I'm sure you could hold your own," placated Xavier, "but that's not why. You see, he has the remarkable ability of self-regeneration. While that's hardly an issue, a side effect of this power is that determining his age is incredibly difficult. He underwent some rather radical procedures against his will in the past and has a fractured memory. A part of his past that he can recall is serving in the Second World War alongside Captain America."

"No way!" said Flint with wide eyes.

"Yes. It's true and there's more. Out of everyone here, Logan is the only one who will give Fury the time of day because he knew his father, Jack. Of anyone to betray your secret to SHIELD, it would most likely be him. Really, you're just lucky that you didn't meet him as Hawkeye because he would have recognised your scent and any chance of anonymity would have already been lost," Xavier explained. "Also, he has hypersensitive hearing so guard your words carefully."

"Thanks for the heads up, Uncle Charlie," smiled Flint, "and you also gave me an excellent idea. Another mutant with similarly sensitive senses. Hank. He wanted to be there for the preliminary testing and couldn't make it, plus he already knows who I am, so if he's around, he'd be perfect for the exercise. What do you think?"

"Agreed," said Charles decisively. "I'll contact him immediately and when he becomes available, I'll book the Danger Room for you. Now just to double-check, you want to work with Jean, Ororo and Hank, correct?"

Flint nodded with a smile.

I'll make all of the arrangements and I'll even monitor the Danger Room session myself to keep the abhorrent Scott Summers away from you," Xavier chortled and ended up laughing loudly at Flint's sour expression. "And while we're on the go, if you have some time free tomorrow after the shopping trip you're unconsciously planning, I'd like to schedule in some time to get started on forging those psychic shields of yours as soon as possible."

Flint leaned over the table and awkwardly hugged the bald man. "That would be great. You know how much it's been screwing with my head."

"Indeed," smiled Xavier gently. "There's only one other matter left to discuss. I've looked through your SHIELD file. Don't worry, there's no way they can trace it since their computer system promised Forge that she wouldn't tell."

"The computer system promised?" Flint warily echoed back.

"His natural affinity for machines allows him to communicate with sophisticated technology," Charles said absently, waving the detail away as unimportant. "Anyway, your file indicates that you have an impressive command over several languages, yes?"

Flint nodded with mild confusion. Where was he going with this? "Yeah. I have an excellent understanding of English, French, German and Russian. I can also get by on Spanish, Italian and Latin if necessary. My Portuguese is pretty shit though and I've always sucked at the Asian dialects. Why?" He was starting to get extremely concerned because Charles Xavier was smirking at him. That was definitely not a good sign.

"You're just the man I've been looking for," said Xavier placidly.

"I am?" asked Flint warily.

"Yes. I've been looking for competent foreign language teachers for quite some time now," said Xavier as his smirk widened.

Flint's eyes almost popped out of his head, "Wait, wait, wait. You want me to teach? As in children? Seriously? I can't do that!"

Raising an eyebrow, Charles noted, "I think you can. Angel is already teaching business and art along with French while Kurt takes dance, film, music and German. Is it fair to them to be so overworked when a linguistic specialist is staying here already?"

"Well," groused Flint, "that was a nice corner you just backed me into. Fine. I'll give it a try but I make no promises."

"That's all I ask," said Xavier. "Take a week to see how the classes run."

"How charitable of you," muttered Flint sarcastically. "Well, it's late and I'm off to bed. I'll drop by sometime tomorrow morning to grab a set of keys if that's alright."

"I look forward to seeing you then," said Charles warmly. "Goodnight."

"'Night," sent Flint over his shoulder as he left the room. He let his thoughts run away with him as he made his way back to his room. _A teacher? Seriously? Charlie wants me to teach kids? Sure I've taught basic archery classes at SHIELD but this? KIDS?_

The ex-Avenger opened his door and sighed loudly. He showered and completed his nightly routine and was just snuggling down into bed when he heard a familiar voice.

"Good evening, Mr Barton."


	8. Avengers X-posé

Hey there. Sorry that this took an extra week to get to y'all. As I read the chapter through last week, I realised that I pretty much hated everything I'd written. I completely re-wrote it and am much more pleased with the new version.

Also, thanks to agd888 for the review. Sorry I left it on a cliffie but it was the only place I could really stop the action easily. Also to the favouriters and followers. Each one means a lot to me.

I hope you like this new chappie. Jace.

* * *

><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Eight - Avengers X-posé_

Flint sat upright in a flash. "JARVIS?" he said tentatively as he warily scanned the room.

"How are you?" asked the artificial intelligence.

Leaping to his feet, the ex-Avenger listened intently to the voice and tried to locate its source. "I'm doing okay. How are you here? Is Stark tracking me down?"

"Sir knows nothing about this," sniffed the computerised voice. "I'm just following his directive; to ensure the safety and well-being of every Avenger to best of my ability."

Flint eventually worked out the origin of the transmission and could have smacked himself in the head. It was coming from the man-bag he'd been gifted from the billionaire philanthropist. He and Xavier had swept all of the firearms and tech for electronics but not the satchel itself. Since it wasn't SHIELD issued, he thought it was clean but anything from Stark was likely to be more than whatever the hell it actually was. He should have known better. "So Tony knows nothing about this conversation?" checked Flint tentatively.

There was a slight pause before JARVIS's very dry response was, "I'm quite certain that I already answered that particular question, Mr Barton, no matter how you choose to paraphrase it. It is clear to me that any prolonged contact with the Avengers at this point would be harmful to your mental health. So until I believe otherwise or you are officially removed from the Avengers roster, I will keep any conversations we may have completely confidential."

"Thanks JARV," said Flint with a relieved sigh. "So how have you been?"

If an AI program could snort, he probably would have done so here. "I'm as excellent as always."

"And what about the others?" pressed Flint.

"Sir is busy working on his latest prototype while improving his firewalls. Apparently SHIELD tried to remotely hack one of his older sets of armour and Mr Stark took exception to that. There's a ninety-eight point three percent chance that Sir will wreak some sort of technological havoc on the helicarrier within the next six hours."

Flint laughed loudly. Nicky should have known better than to piss Tony off. "You'll have to let me know how that pans out, JARV."

"Of course, Mr Barton," assured the AI. "The Captain has been rather listless since Agent Coulson was recalled to SHIELD headquarters. He's been spending much more time than usual in the gymnasium and on his artwork."

The archer really couldn't care less about the leader of the Avengers. The automatic flinch he felt at his ex-whatever's name was a little less painful than it had been since he'd run away in the first place and he really hoped he'd been called to Fury to try to explain how his two best assets had gone AWOL on his watch. If only his bugs near the one eyed man's office were still intact. He'd pay a fortune to hear that particular conversation. Serves the fucker right.

"Dr Banner has been working tirelessly on a formula he's been developing in his lab, Mr Wilson has been holed up in the Stark Industries R&D Department and Mr Odinson has returned to Asgard to attend some sort of springtime feast," summed up JARVIS.

"I heard that Natasha's left. What do you know about it?" asked Flint curiously. Was she really pissed off with him? He hoped not or no force on the Earth could stop her vengeance.

"You are exceptionally well informed, for an escapee," noted JARVIS with what sounded like mild surprise mixed with a hint of suspicion. "If you would be so kind as to turn the bag around," asked the AI politely.

Flint sceptically followed the instructions and looked at the back of the man-bag. It was the same plain black leather as it was everywhere else. However, there was a small electronic window in its centre with a bright purple and black flashing display which read _This bag is the property of Hawkeye. If you're not him, fuck off before he puts an arrow through your eye for touching his stuff!_ Man he loved that message and he'd even voluntarily hugged the genius for the thoughtful gift.

"Now, place your right thumb on the identification window," continued JARVIS, who sounded rather smug at ordering the archer around.

Doing as he was told, Flint thumbed the screen and blinked in surprise as a red line went across it from left to right. As the line moved, it wiped the labelled text away. _Accessing database_ scrolled over the window followed by _Identity confirmed. Welcome Hawkeye._ There was a slight click and to his immense surprise, the back of the man-bag folded down to reveal a computer screen in the bag itself and a laser projected keyboard appeared on the flap. Trust Stark to pimp out a simple bag with his technology.

"Do not be alarmed, Mr Barton," soothed JARVIS, despite the fact that the archer wasn't particularly worried about anything at the moment. "This computer system is completely separate from the Stark Industries network and although my connection to it has laid dormant, you can disable any interference (including my own) through the settings at any time."

That caused Flint's heart rate to suddenly rise. "Does it have a GPS tracker in it?" he asked.

"Yes," came the immediate reply.

"Disable it and any other way that Tony might use to determine my location," ordered Flint somewhat frantically. "I don't want him or anyone else knocking on my door."

"Done, Mr Barton."

Flint breathed a huge breath of relief. "Okay. Next, at this place I'm known under a different name. Flint Robertson. Can you change your form of address please? I don't want anyone to think I'm living a lie if I can help it and some of the people here have extremely sensitive hearing."

"As you wish, Mr Robertson," noted JARVIS. "I have also taken the liberty of altering your welcome screen in accordance with your directions."

Smiling widely, Flint said, "Thanks so much JARV and it's so good to hear your voice again." It certainly was. Just hearing the AI's somewhat snarky tone somehow soothed him, adding a slight sense of normalcy from his previous life into his shiny new one.

"I wholeheartedly agree, Mr Robertson. Now, I believe you were inquiring about Ms Romanoff earlier, yes?" asked the artificial intelligence.

Flint snorted. "As if you could forget anything, JARVIS. Tell me what you know."

"I can do one better, which is why I wanted you to open the computer in the first place," stated the artificial intelligence haughtily. "This altercation took place yesterday evening at 9:17pm."

Before Flint could say anything, the screen came to life showing the den of the tower from one of Tony's internal security cameras. As JARVIS was the only other entity besides Stark himself to have access to them, the quality of the movie was flawless. The angles of the video clip would change from shot to shot as if it had been edited like a movie which he suspected was due to the almighty JARVIS and his propensity to be polished in every aspect of his assigned duties. It also reminded the man that he had just spent the last couple of years on candid camera. That was a bit creepy. He blinked his errant thoughts away before focussing his attention on the scene that was playing out in front of him.

Thor was happily munching on a plate full of pop tarts while he leaned back comfortably on a recliner. Sitting next to the man on a matching seat was Bruce who was tiredly polishing his glasses. Coulson and Cap were lying together on the loveseat, which caused Flint's breath to catch. As he was by himself for the moment, he allowed a few tears out at the man he'd once thought he could possibly spend his life with. That's all he'd ever really wanted, to be by his love's side and now that blond bastard had taken his place and could do so in front of the whole fucking team. It hurt so much. Apparently Tony had seen such sights often in the archer's absence because he glanced at the pair and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at his girlfriend, causing Pepper (who was sitting on his lap) to smack him gently in the head.

Flint felt a pang of longing. Out of everyone in the tower, excluding Natasha, Tony was the one he got on with the best. In fact, the genius was definitely his best male friend. Ever. Their humour and sarcasm gelled nicely, they both had their share of issues and were more than happy to help distract the other if they needed their minds taken away from that fact. If someone had told him after he'd recovered from Loki's mind control that he would become such good friends with the playboy, he would have sent them to SHIELD medical in a heartbeat. Strange how life turns out sometimes, isn't it?

The television turned off at the snap of a set of fingers to dismayed cries from the occupants as they looked around the room for the source. Apparently they'd been watching the original Jaws movie. "Natasha," whined Tony when he spotted the woman standing statuesquely in the doorway but he instantly shut up when he noticed her posture. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed and her left eyebrow was slightly twitching.

Flint couldn't help but gasp in surprise. It was the angriest he'd seen her since that fucktastic mission in the heart of the Amazon rainforest where the two of them had been stranded for three weeks. They'd hiked their way back to civilisation only to discover it had been a survival exercise and they hadn't been lost in the first place. Even Fury thought she'd been about to gouge out his remaining eye in her almost uncontrollable rage.

The woman strode toward the loveseat and Flint smirked as Cap tried to sink further into it. He'd always been skittish around women, strong ones even more so. The expression on his face was pure petrification. She reached down and hauled Coulson to his feet by his tie, who only betrayed his complete surprise at the situation with his slightly widened eyes. When he was standing by his own power, she unexpectedly punched him in the face.

"What?" he barked out in a very un-Coulson-like voice.

"I can't believe you," Natasha, no, the Black Widow seethed. There was practically nothing of his best friend on her face at the moment. "How dare you!" she all but raged.

It was clear that the agent had no idea what she was going on about. "How dare I what?" he asked with complete confusion.

The Widow's eyes must have flicked to look at Cap because when Coulson was momentarily distracted, he paid for his inattention. He glanced at his boyfriend (who was trying and failing to look smaller on the couch) and she punched him again but on the other side of his face and yelled, "_Вы __пизда__!_" Flint knew Coulson would have the identical black eyes of a racoon for days to come and almost fell sorry for him but he'd never heard Tasha drop the c-bomb before and it was the most terrifying thing he'd ever heard her utter.

"Romanoff, control yourself," demanded Captain America, who got such a venomous look in reply that he blanched and ducked his head down again.

The woman turned her gaze back upon Coulson who finally seemed to gain at least an ounce of self-preservation and instinctually stepped back. As she slowly advanced like a lioness stalking her prey, the other agent kept backpedalling until he reached the wall. Quick as a flash, the Widow reached behind her back, grabbed something she'd kept hidden and threw it right next to Coulson's head. Flint recognised it immediately; it was his ankle knife, Shirley. Shirley had gotten him out of many a tight jam and he'd hated leaving her behind almost as much as letting Morgan (his bow) go.

Flint watched Coulson's eyes flicker to his knife (which was now deeply embedded in the den's wall) and then all around the place as his mind drew out possible scenarios. He saw the moment when the agent reached the only real possible conclusion.

"But why..." Coulson said thoughtfully to himself as the Black Widow snorted at his stupidity.

"If you don't know why, you're stupider than I thought. I'm going to find him," she announced before striding toward the doorway.

"NO," barked Coulson with authority. "I can't be two down."

The assassin looked at the agent like she'd never actually seen him before. "If you didn't want to be short, you shouldn't have royally screwed up in the first place." She folded her arms which seemed more threatening than anything she'd said before.

"Er, okay," interrupted a confused Stark. "I know I'm a super genius and everything but can one of you please explain what the fuckity fuck is going on?"

Turning her attention from the agent to the playboy, Flint saw the Widow drain from her eyes as his friend returned. She breathed heavily and growled out, "It's nothing."

Tony and Bruce shared confused glances at each other while Thor continued to munch on his pop tarts unconcernedly. Pepper was tapping her leg as she mulled over the cryptic situation. Cap quietly tried to move to Coulson's side without garnering the angry woman's attention and was completely unsuccessful. She eyed the national icon with pure disdain as he hid behind his boyfriend who was still gazing at the ankle knife embedded in the wall with visible astonishment. It seemed the unflappable agent had finally been thrown enough to show it. Ordinarily, Flint would have been ecstatic at his obvious surprise but having his life turned upside down like it had was more than enough to dull his enthusiasm.

"Oooookay," said Sam as he entered the den, immediately noticing the tense atmosphere permeating the room. "Ah, what's going down?" The dark skinned man shifted a little uncomfortably as he glanced at each teammate in turn.

"In all honesty, only Natasha seems to have all the answers," replied Bruce, "and she's keeping her cards close to her chest."

"Cards?" asked the Asgardian with confusion, taking an interest in the conversation for the first time. He stared overtly at the sleek curves of the Russian spy's body. "Is this an extension of the mighty game called Poo-ka that the Man of Iron was teaching to me last week? Are we supposed to frisk you for the numbered talismans?"

Natasha gave Thor a look that promised much pain and humiliation for the God if he ever dared to place his hands anywhere on her person. He looked sheepishly away. Bruce, Sam, Tony and Pepper where all laughing while Cap and Coulson appeared to be too shaken from their close brush with death to find anything remotely resembling amusement.

"Anyway," said Natasha, "I have a mission to complete and will be gone indefinitely. I'll return when I complete my objective but it could take several weeks if not months."

The superspy answered a few questions, retrieved Shirley from the wall and bid her friends goodbye before sweeping out of the room. Coulson hastened to follow her without a word. The last Flint saw of the den was the movie resuming before the camera shots began following his SHIELD ex-comrades.

Coulson eventually caught up to the woman as she was halfway through packing her usual deep cover mission supplies. She slightly stiffened at his voice. "Don't leave Romanoff. If Clint truly has deserted SHIELD, we need you with the Avengers now more than ever."

The assassin whirled around, a black cat suit held firmly in her grasp. "We both know that if Clint wants to disappear, he will and if anyone can find him, it's me. My allegiance has always been to SHIELD and by extension, the Avengers but if you were stupid enough to do what I'm almost certain you've done, you will never have me working for you again. I will find him and in the meantime, I suggest you work out a way to explain this to Fury because we both know there's no way that you can stop me from walking out," she explained before shunting the agent from her room.

Flint watched as his best friend completed packing her effects and her eyes swept around the room. She nodded in satisfaction before picking everything up and retrieving his ankle knife. Her next destination appeared to be his old room. It was shocking how much he both missed his old abode and yet was relieved to be far away from it at the same time. His conflicted emotions rolled around his chest as he watched Natasha comb through his room.

Despite knowing that he'd never left any indication of where he was going, he still felt anxious that Tasha might somehow divine his destination regardless but she eventually let out a small huff of disappointment. She carefully packed Shirley and Morgan into her bag before zipping it up and approached the mirror above his bedside table.

The camera shot changed from the corner of the room to looking directly into her face and Flint felt a moment of victory. "I always thought he'd have a camera hidden behind the mirror, the pervert," he crowed in delight.

JARVIS smugly said, "You are incorrect, Mr Robertson. The camera is in the frame of the mirror, not behind it."

"Eh, po-tay-to po-tah-to," shrugged Flint as he watched Tasha fiddle with her hair a bit.

When the SHIELD agent was satisfied with her appearance, she glared at her reflection. Hard. "Clint," she barked, causing the man in question to start in surprise. "I know you well enough to be certain that at some point in the future, you'll gain access to Stark's security feeds."

Wow. She'd totally left weird sort of voicemail message knowing he'd eventually find it. It was just another reminder that she was one of the best espionage agents in the business. Always five steps ahead of the opposition, even if her enemy is himself.

"I'm not happy with you in the slightest, _Вы __немного __дерьма_ (_you little shit_) but I want you to know that I understand. Although you never told me with words, I knew of your dealings with Agent Coulson." Her voice hardened considerably as she spat out the name of her SHIELD handler. "I know you may not be ready to hear this yet but you deserve so much better than that _идиот_ (_idiot_) and I hope you find whoever he is soon."

Flint felt a swell in his heart at her words. He knew if anyone would understand, it would be her.

"That said," she continued with an edge of steel in her voice, "how dare you run away from the Avengers, from me, without a word of farewell. I don't care that a clean break is harder for me to track..." her eyebrows narrowed, "...you know I'll find you. You should have told me. I was so angry with you at first, then at Coulson and Rogers but now I'm sort of pleased. If I had to stay in close quarters with those men (and I use the term men very loosely) for any length of time, I'd probably murder them and I do not want Fury on my case for killing American's brightest star."

"Look," Tasha said with a softened voice, "Take care of yourself, Clint. Don't get out of shape, stay well clear of Fury and most of all, do your best to forget about Coulson. Every moment you spend thinking about him, is a moment wasted and you'll need to stay sharp if you want to survive the next time we meet. I'll see you soon. Count on it." The redhead uncharacteristically blew a small kiss at the mirror and gave a brief and rare smile.

The screen went blank.

"So she's left the Avengers to look for me," thought Flint aloud to himself. "I knew she'd do that."

"Indeed," agreed JARVIS, causing Flint to jump. He'd forgotten that the artificial intelligence was still here.

"So despite Natasha going all stalker/serial killer, is there anything else in the works at the moment, JARV?" asked Flint.

"Well, there is a small, related matter of which you should probably be apprised of," said the artificial intelligence. "Agent Coulson, Mr Rogers and Mr Stark will be holding a press conference tomorrow afternoon announcing that both Miss Romanoff and your former self are on leave for the foreseeable future."

"Huh," said Flint to himself. So SHIELD was already looking to replace him. No surprise there. Fury always had plans within plans and a contingency for nearly every situation. He was probably now putting considerable resources into finding him so he'd have to be extra special careful over the next few weeks. "That didn't take them long. Was it on Fury's orders or did Ph... er, Coulson decide this for himself?"

"The command came straight from the Director himself," the AI replied.

There was a small click and instead of JARVIS's smooth tones, the angry and familiar yell of the Director of SHIELD was heard. "I don't care what it takes, Coulson. Clean up your own damn mess. I'll put every available resource on finding YOUR assets but in the meantime, let the team and the public know that Barton and Romanoff are both on deep cover assignments and will be temporarily on leave until further notice."

"Are you sure that's wise..." said Coulson's steady voice before he was talked over by a still irate Fury.

"Last I checked, Coulson, I'm the Director of this organisation and if I deem something to be the wisest course of action, it damn well is. Also, it was your job to keep your assets in line at which you failed spectacularly. Run interference with the remaining Avengers," ordered Fury.

"How..." started Coulson.

"Work it out for yourself," snarked the Director over the top of his agent. "I'm going to have enough headaches courtesy of you keeping the rest of the world in line and scrounging out new recruits."

"Recruits, Sir?" asked the agent somewhat tentatively, as if he thought he might get yelled over for a third time in a row.

There was a lengthy silence, in which Flint assumed Fury was giving his patent 'Evil-Eyed Death Glare of Doom' before he said, "If this situation wears on, we're going to need more Avengers to help protect the Earth from global threats. I have a few people in mind but you already have enough to deal with at the moment so get going."

"Yes Sir," came Agent Coulson's immediate reply before the clicking sound occurred again, letting the ex-Avenger know that the recording had been shut off.

Flint would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised at the turn of events. "So they're looking for new Avengers now," he thought aloud.

"The Director has been searching for additional avengers to be on a reserve list for the last year," supplied JARVIS.

"Really?" said Flint with shock. Once again, the Director was keeping his operational specifics close to his chest. "Oh well. It does seem like a Nicky thing to do."

"Indeed," affirmed the artificial intelligence.

"So how much of SHIELD does Tony have bugged?" the archer asked.

"Although I have been expressly forbidden from answering all questions about any alleged Stark Industries issued recording devices in government facilities, I would just like to state that it is highly likely that there is extensive coverage of any pertinent agencies that work in close quarters with the Avengers."

Flint smiled at the evasive but positive non-answer. If there was a loophole, JARVIS could find and exploit it. Thank God the AI was on their side. "I see. Thanks for the heads up about the press conference tomorrow. I'll be able to maintain my cover much more easily now."

"You are most welcome, Mr Robertson. I didn't want the broadcast to blindside you," said the artificial intelligence.

"You're a true gentleman, JARV," noted Flint warmly. "Anyway, it's getting late and as much as I've appreciated your unexpected company, I need to get my beauty sleep."

"Then I shall let you get as much as possible since it's obvious you need it," snarked the AI before he bid the ex-Avenger goodnight.

Flint closed the hidden computer compartment and resuspended the man-bag on his door. Despite his long and busy day, he found himself quickly lulled to sleep.


	9. Amassing and X-perimenting

**A to X**

_Chapter Nine - Amassing and X-perimenting_

Flint woke up at a reasonable hour the next day. He had to laugh quietly to himself. As usual, Xavier was right on the money, he had been considering another shopping trip and while taking a gloriously hot shower, decided to go through with it. He applied his emo disguise again and was a bit surprised at how quickly he'd gotten used to it. Especially his new awesome power gloves.

Barely catching on reflex the keys that were hurled at his head the moment he entered Charles' office, the ex-Avenger could only chuckle. "Well good morning to you too, Uncle Charlie," he chuckled warmly. If it weren't for his superior training, he definitely would have been clocked in the head. That would have hurt.

"And to you too, Littleflint," smirked the bald man. He gestured to a chair in which the archer quickly sat himself. "I know you want to get this trip done and dusted as soon as possible but I have a few things for you that may make your life a little easier."

Now that caught Flint's attention and he leaned forward slightly with interest.

Xavier opened one of his desk drawers and extracted a passport. He passed it over to Flint who looked it over with interest. It was filled with the correct misinformation of his cover and had a photograph of a man who looked similar to himself. It was close enough that he envisioned having little trouble with it. It's not like he couldn't think of at least twenty different ways to smuggle himself out of the country if he really needed to off the top of his head anyway. He was then passed matching passport and social security cards along with a birth certificate, Pennsylvanian driver's licence and even two older and more battered cards for Medicaid and an expired North State High School ID.

"Wow," said Flint with earnest. "You guys are good. If I didn't actually know these are fakes, I never would have guessed."

Smiling broadly, Charles accepted the praise gracefully. "We've had a lot of experience in the area with our large proportion of runaway students and in some instances adults. I have a system in place with several reliable friends who are more than happy to prioritise my requests. As you can see, they're extremely good at what they do."

"That's for sure," agreed Flint as he re-examined the documents and cards. He grabbed out his phone and added a wallet to his lengthy list of items to purchase. Now that he had more than just his credit card, he needed somewhere to store them all. Actually, he needed to fix up his credit card too. It had been challenging to keep the fact that his card had his real name on it from Jubilee and her friends without arousing their suspicions but he wasn't an espionage expert for nothing. "Thanks so much, Charlie," he said as he rose from his seat.

Xavier waved the praise away. "There's a parking space by Scott's red convertible available for any automotive you may consider buying today, now that you have the appropriate licence."

Flint blinked. He'd forgotten to add a new car to his list. How incredibly stupid of him. He rectified that error immediately. "Cool. Anyway, I better get to it if I want to finish anytime today."

"Of course," agreed the telepath. "If you are able to, please stop by my office this afternoon if you want to begin constructing your psychic shields."

"Will do," said Flint with a wink as he strode purposefully from the room with a grateful smile. He almost bodily ran into Jubilee who took the opportunity to feel up his biceps again with a girly sigh that sounded far too feminine for the rough and tumble firecracker. He thanked his superior training for stopping him from screaming in a very unmanly way.

"God, your arms are still amazing!" she squealed, with a final grope before she regretfully pulled away. She shook her head gently then smirked. "So the Prof-man asked me to give you a drive up town," she said with a tap on her head indicating that it was not a verbal conversation. "Can't you drive or something?"

Flint snorted, "I've been driving since you were knocking about that mall. Actually, one of the things I'm buying today is a car of my own."

Blinking in surprise as she started heading for the front door of the mansion, Jubes asked, "So how the hell can you afford one? Xavier has a strict budget for each new student and although he usually foots more for adults, you surely must have used it up with your clothing splurge."

Sending a wide grin her way, Flint said, "Well, there are perks to being a member of the family. Uncle Charlie's always been good to me."

"Lucky bastard," she muttered under her breath.

The drive to Manhattan Island was rather uneventful, if you could call holding onto the armrest and praying to every deity he could think of for safety uneventful. Jubes somehow managed to pull up in two parks, narrowly avoiding a bench and tree, right in front of the JP Morgan bank he'd visited only four days before.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Flint as he saw the mallrat reach for the door handle. "I'm afraid this is a solo shopping mission. As much as I think you're awesome with a capital A, I have a meeting with Uncle Charlie right after lunch and if you come along, I won't get everything done."

Jubilee's hand froze near the handle and there was a large, uncomfortable silence. "You totally owe me something amazing for this, Biceps."

"Erm," stuttered Flint, "How about you get first drive of my new car?"

In an instant, Jubes' frown was replaced with a blinding smile. "It's a deal. Just don't buy a granny car or something totally lame that no one in their right mind would be caught dead in, okay?"

"Sure," the ex-Avenger agreed before waving as the car sped off down the road and he couldn't help but sigh with relief. She was scarier on the road than being held at knifepoint by the Black Widow, which was truly saying something.

As Flint neared the bank branch, he smiled widely as Tessa approached him and barged yet another underling out of her way. It appeared to be her signature move. "Hey Tessa," he greeted.

"Good morning, Mr Barton," she replied with a toothpaste white grin. "What can I do for you today?"

"Do you mind if we retreat into one of your conference rooms again?" the ex-Avenger asked.

"Not at all. Follow me," the executive said as they found an empty one. When the pair were seated, she re-asked her previous question.

"As I'm sure you can imagine, I've been keeping a very low profile," noted Flint. "Hence the disguise."

"Of course," agreed Tessa.

"I've moved in with a friend of mine and his extended family but we agreed that I board under a pseudonym. I was wondering if there was any possibility of getting a new credit card with my alias on it instead of my actual name just in case any of the others get nosy?"

Tessa eyed him archly for a moment. "Under current US laws, misrepresenting yourself with a banking institution is a criminal offence. I'm sure you're already aware of that fact." Her expression changed to a somewhat sly look. "That said, as you are one of our top clients, I'm sure there is some sort of contract we can draw up which would be able to satisfy both your requirements and those of the law."

They hashed out the details which involved a sizable deduction of his funds if he used the new card to intentionally defraud the company over the better part of an hour but he walked out of the bank with his credit card now issued under his new name of Flint Robertson. Apparently it would also show up as such on any receipts so he would be able to shop in peace. In fact, all he was worried about now was being constantly on guard for Natasha every time he left the mansion. Not that she couldn't break in if she really wanted to but for some reason the building gave off a safe vibe that was difficult to ignore.

After hopping a cab to a not-really-close-enough-to-walk-to-but-sort-of-nearby shopping complex, the archer went about buying the bulkier purchases on his list. He wasn't too worried about the majority of the smaller things since he'd soon be able to drive around whenever he wanted to. It was a surreal experience. He'd never got to select his own furniture before. At the circus he made do with what was supplied which was a trend that continued when he moved into SHIELD with their Spartan quarters. Tony had already kitted out his room in the Avengers Tower with everything he could ever want plus many things he really didn't. His new bar fridge was unashamedly amazing with killer black lights and an LED screen on the front that he'd probably never use.

Flint grabbed a snack from the food court and went in search of a new car. It was another thing he'd never bought for himself before since Stark had so many and he was (strangely enough) more than willing to share them with Merida, as he would sometimes be called.

In the end, the archer couldn't really care less which car he bought, much to the sales rep's consternation (whose name was Bill) so he just picked the closest black car. It turned out to be some kind of Chevrolet but what the model actually was, he had no idea. He'd been forced to drive (hotwire) so many different vehicles to quickly escape on missions that had gone awry that he could make do with pretty much anything. Just as long as it didn't look too pretentious and draw unwanted attention to himself, it was all good.

Having followed Xavier's suggestion of getting the bulk of his purchases delivered directly to the mansion itself, he conveniently arrived back as the majority of them were being taken up to his room. It distracted him from his original instinct to scrape his new car key along the length of Summers' car which was probably for the best. Having telepaths for sleuths was just not fair. Apparently, Charlie pulled some sort of Jedi mind trick on the deliverymen so they would fail to notice that the staff and students of the Xavier Institute were clearly mutants. Although it was a useful scam, the whole idea of mind control still sort of freaked him out.

The ruckus and unfamiliar faces drew a lot of attention from adults and students alike who crowded around, enjoying the spectacle since it must have been lunchtime during the school day. As he looked around, Flint was still in awe with the diverse range of mutant powers he'd witnessed so far. At the Tower, Tony, Sam, himself and Natasha are regular humans who utilise tech. Both Bruce and Cap are just physically enhanced (although to quite an extreme) so the only Avenger with any sort of other power is Thor with his electrical and flight capabilities.

In the X-mansion, there are all sorts of powers on display pretty much constantly. There are shapeshifters, teleporters, fliers, elementals, physically and mentally enhanced mutants, empaths and pretty much anything else imaginable. It always surprised Flint that the place didn't just spontaneously combust every few days or so.

After spending some time arranging his new purchases, as requested, the archer spent the afternoon in Xavier's office constructing his psychic shields.

Flint's first idea was to make some sort of huge tower but decided against it. Using any of the places he'd been to while with SHIELD was a complete no-no. It would totally give him away. In fact, there was only one place he thought no one would be able to connect him to. Well that wasn't entirely true. His personal history was classified at an extremely high level at SHIELD but there were some agents with access to the file. Only Fury, Hill, Natasha, Coulson and Colby (his SHIELD psychotherapist) knew the contents of the dossier and none of them are psychic. In actual fact, the only person who would be able to link him to the image of his shields would be Loki. Thankfully, the God was most unlikely to divulge anything since (according to Thor) he was still locked up in Asgard.

After many gruelling hours, Flint had painstakingly recreated the old tent from the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders. He had many good and bad memories there before things went completely to shit. It was just as he remembered it. The ghostly purple tent was quite magnificent and he decided to use diversionary tactics to help disguise his mind/globe. With the spectacle of the arena and the almost ceaseless movement from acts he remembered from so long ago, it was hard not to get sucked into the show. Just like at the real one. He tried to change the colour of the massive tent but couldn't. Xavier explained that the colour was ingrained into his personal psyche and not changeable without psychic powers. Apparently he would always identify with the colour purple no matter who he pretended to be.

Flint was too busy concentrating on adding random balloons, boxes of popcorn and soda cups throughout the audience he'd been painstakingly creating to notice that Xavier had popped out of existence. He was tying a balloon to a small girl's wrist when he was startled by a feminine voice from behind.

"Hi Clint! Oh God, I mean Flint. I, er..." stuttered Jean embarrassedly. If she weren't a vibrant pink astral entity, Flint was certain she'd be blushing a bright red.

"Hey Jean. Don't worry about it," said the archer soothingly. "No one's here except you, me and Ch..." he petered off as he looked around before adding a puzzled, "Where did Charlie go?"

Jean laughed at his confusion. "He disappeared to send me an invitation to your show." The telepath took a moment to scrutinise the scene around her. "I'm impressed. I haven't seen such a high level of detail before from anyone as inexperienced as you with working on the Astral Plane."

This time Flint knew he'd be the one blushing if they were meeting in person. "Thanks Jean. I suppose it's probably because my eyesight is a little better than most others, that's all."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Most others?" she said with a small huff. "More like nearly everyone."

"There's no need to be jealous of my gifts, Miss Grey," smirked the ex-Avenger.

"Whatever," shrugged the woman before she let loose a few giggles. "Anyway, I was sent here on a mission. Charles asked me to take a walk around your shields to see if I could add any suggestions. May I?"

Flint gestured to the room at large in response. The woman strolled around the tent and made a few small recommendations but decided they were sound.

"Of course, if we really want to see how strong they are, I can attack them," Jean suggested cautiously.

Taking the time to mull over her suggestion, Flint eventually agreed with the idea. As much as he didn't want someone to be poking at his head, he'd much rather it be someone he believes to have his best interests at heart rather than a murdering psychopathic God. If she could help protect his mind from the likes of Loki, he'd be more than willing to take a chance on her.

"Now before I start, I want you to look around the tent once more. I know you've been working hard on it for the last few hours but it's easy for someone new to this to forget what they've managed to achieve as a whole. The last thing you want if you truly wish to master these techniques is to spend another half a day recreating what you've already done," lectured the telepath seriously.

"Why?" asked Flint in confusion.

"Think back, Cl, urrrgh! FLINT. I swear I'm going to get a handle on that if it kills me. Anyway, think back to when you were having a look at Scott, Jubilee, Hank and everyone else's shields yesterday. Did they take an hour to make their shields visible?"

"Oh. No. I hadn't really thought about it like that," mused Flint to himself. He took a moment to let his eyes scan the expansive tent. It really was some exceptional work to bring such a distant memory to the forefront of his mind.

"Don't look so worried," consoled Jean with a pat on his shoulder, dragging his attention back to the present. "All it takes is practice. How about we make a deal?" she said as she flicked her wrist and a small pink blade appeared with the tip clenched firmly in her grasp. "I'll throw five daggers at the places I would attack first instead of a full on assault. That way you'll have less to repair and you'll get a feel for what a minor attack on your mind can feel like."

Eager to spare his first attempt at shielding from being utterly decimated so early in its life, the archer agreed with the telepath's idea. "Sure."

The thin redhead smirked at him before critically examining the surroundings. "One, the popcorn machine," she said before accurately throwing her dagger into the machine that was sitting off to the side of the arena. It exploded and Flint felt a sharp poke in his head, as if someone had shoved a toothpick into his brain. When he got over his surprise at the flash of pain, he noticed (much to his displeasure) that all the popcorn buckets in the audience had also dematerialised. "Hmmm," hummed Jean, "You'll have to disassociate the popcorn in the buckets from the machine next time."

Flint rolled his eyes with a pout. "Obviously," he noted with venomous sarcasm mixed with disappointment, which the woman ignored.

"Well, if that happened to the popcorn, the same will probably happen with the balloons too," she said before popping one with her second dagger. She was right. All the balloons exploded around the room. What the woman hadn't counted on was the muttering that started around the crowd and several kids started crying, making a loud, uncomfortable din.

The redhead nodded with respect at the ploy and gave Flint a winning smile. "Oh, you're good. If I weren't used to blocking out the unfriendly thoughts of my students, this would really get on my nerves."

"I aim to please," smirked Flint.

Jean's third dagger was hurled at the ringmaster's stand. Unfortunately for Flint, when it exploded, it took the ringmaster with it. After the ringmaster disappeared, the performers and animals began to flicker out of existence in quick succession until they were all gone, leaving the centre of the arena very bare.

"Fuck," murmured Flint under his breath. Hours of work, gone. Just like that.

"Hey," admonished Jean, "don't be too hard on yourself. The first time I took a stab at Bobby's snow globe (pun intended) the whole thing shattered completely. Look," she added as she threw her arms up, "the tent is still standing. I honestly didn't expect it to so don't get too despondent yet."

Now that the arena was much emptier than before, Jean was able to scrutinise the area more thoroughly. It was then that she noticed the well-hidden trapdoor in the centre of the floor which was used in the clown routine to dispense cream pies. The fourth dagger found its mark and the pain in Flint's head flared much more agonizingly than it had previously. Springing open, his mind/globe was launched into the air and the archer flinched as it began to plummet back down to the ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement from Jean and was most relieved when he realised she hadn't thrown her last dagger but instead floated a florescent pink baseball glove underneath it to catch the fragile-looking sphere.

Flint let out a huge sigh of relief as she gently lowered the ball back into the trapdoor before closing the hatch.

"That was some great work for a mind shield virgin," noted Jean with amusement as she turned to face the ex-Avenger.

"Thanks Jean," he said somewhat shyly. Even after all this time, he was still sometimes surprised and a little uncomfortable when receiving praise from others.

After looking once again around the tent, Jean nodded her head decisively. "Very good indeed. Anyway, you've been in the Astral Plane for almost five hours now. I suggest you take some time to rest. If you like, we can work on disassociating like objects tomorrow after our session."

"Session?" Flint warily echoed. The first thing that came to mind was the many sessions he spent with Agent Colby Cardwell, his excitable SHIELD shrink. She was a brunette woman with light grey eyes in her mid to late thirties. The only real point in her favour was that it was easy to side-track her with mission details. She'd hang on his every word, forgetting that she was supposed to be assessing his mental state.

"Oh, I thought he would have told you," said Jean with a roll of her eyes. "Xavier's scheduled us in for a Danger Room session tomorrow afternoon at sixteen hundred hours. I don't know how you managed it but Hank will be here for it." A wide smile spread out over her face as her eyes unfocussed. "It's been way too long since we've been in that room together. Not since the days of circular saws and trapdoors before Forge upgraded it with holographic technology."

"You've been here that long?" asked the archer with unconcealed surprise.

Jean's eyes flicked to Flint's and the Astral Plane shimmered. His circus tent had been replaced with a dark blue room with various hoops, saws and flamethrowers. The colours of the scene were vibrant in comparison to his own meagre showing, reminding him that she was a psychic specialist after all.

Storm was gracefully swooping through the hoops that were moving quickly around the ceiling. She neared what was clearly a much younger Hank who was hanging from one of them by a single foot. They linked hands and the blue mutant hurled the slighter woman directly at a girl who looked to be about sixteen, Jean Grey. She held up her hands and halted the chocolate coloured woman mere inches from collision. "Sorry, not this time Storm," she said with a wink as the other desperately tried to snatch the crown on her head.

There was a flash of red light and the item in question had been expertly blasted from her head. Summers dived for the gold crown but grasped empty air as a multitude of colours blinded all those in the room. When their eyes had readjusted, the gold crown sat regally on a blonde woman's head who Flint found vaguely familiar.

Flint jumped as Charles' voice came from right behind him. "It looks like Dazzler is the new carryover champion for today. Well done."

The scene fizzled out of existence. "Wait a minute," said Flint with wide eyes. "Was that THE Dazzler? The famous singer? She's a mutant?"

Jean smacked herself in the head. "Yes. Charles helped her refine her powers and Forge played a large part in the designing of her suit which helps to store her sonic energy. Of course, no one can know about this, Flint. If anyone even suspected her lighting effects were the product of mutation instead of technology, well I'm sure you could imagine the repercussions."

"Don't worry," shrugged Flint. "My lips are sealed. I'm just glad that the Danger Room is now holographic. I wouldn't like being cleaved in two with one of those circular blades."

Letting loose a loud, somewhat sinister laugh, Jean eventually said, "Just because it's holographic, doesn't mean it can't hurt like hell."

Flint frowned. "Shit. I hadn't thought of that. I'm used to holograms being intangible."

"Well then," said the redhead with a smirk. "Congratulations on graduating to the big kid's league, Flint. I hope you survive the experience."

The archer's frown deepened. "I wish you guys would stop saying that," he muttered to himself before returning to his body in Xavier's office.


	10. Academically X-ercised

Hey guys. I'm sorry that this chapter took forever but life etc has been crazy. Plus, I thought I had a chapter up my sleeve but when I tried to upload it, I realised it was the previous one and I was like NOOOOO! Anyways,thanks to all the revs, faves and alerters. You guys rock! I hope y'all like this new chappie. The beginning sequence is my favourite scene in the story thus far.

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><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Ten - Academically X-ercised_

Flint was regretting his promise to Jubilee as she haphazardly drove around the unsuspecting streets of Manhattan. She had a horrible tendency to let loose excited cheers while simultaneously yelling abuse at drivers who actually adhered to the speed limit and singing along to some goddam awful bubble-gum pop music station that he wished would die a horrific death. It was official, he was scarred for life. The spitfire behind the wheel was scarier than Nick Fury before his first pot of coffee for the day.

"So," shouted Jubes over the electronica that was probably destroying his sound system by its mere existence, "you won't believe what I saw on the TV yesterday." Her words turned from conversational shouting to grumpy shouting. "You know, when you ditched me for your little solo act. So not cool."

"What did you see?" asked Flint loudly over the music.

"The Avengers were holding a press conference," said Jubilee as she swerved unsteadily to the left.

Flint hoped she was too distracted by driving (if it could be called that) to notice his gasp. It was quite ridiculous really, since JARVIS had already forewarned him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Apparently that widow chick and the arrow guy are off on some sort of deep cover assignment. I reckon they've probably eloped or some shit and the others are trying to shield them from the press or something. I would totally go for either of them," mused the mallrat more to herself than to Flint. "Or both. At the same time. I mean, you've totally seen them on the telly before, right?"

Opening and closing his mouth for a few moments, the archer in question eventually managed to say, "Er, yeah. I think pretty much everyone in America's seen them."

"Exactly," noted Jubilee. "I mean, you've seen the curves on that woman, yeah? That and her perky orbs of satisfaction. How anyone could say no to all that, is beyond me."

Flint felt somewhat violated on Tasha's behalf and prayed that the Russian agent would never hear about Jubilee's words or the firecracker would be flayed alive.

Not knowing about her companion's inner turmoil, Jubes continued describing exactly what was drool-worthy about his best friend before moving on to something even more mortifying. "And that Hawkeye? So... fucking... hot! He has the whole broody thing interspersed with actual funnies (unlike Spider-man who's very unfunny) in a very nice package. And whoa, what a package he has indeed. It's not like his uniform really hides all that sexy man meat and look at his muscle definition. Can you say chiselled? His arms are almost as lickable as yours..." she decided as her eyes once again raked over his biceps.

Flint's horror at her choice of conversation was overridden by an even more basic survival instinct. "EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD!" he yelled as he somewhat involuntarily grabbed onto the dashboard.

Rolling her eyes, Jubilee huffed as she turned her focus back onto the road. "Sheesh, chillax Flinty. I got this."

"Why on Earth have you been thinking so much about the sexiness of the Avengers?" asked the archer masochistically. It was odd that the woman seemed so hung up on them and he wanted to understand why.

The car came to a screeching halt. The mallrat turned in her seat, grabbed his head with both hands and brought it toward herself. She peered intently into his eyes before she said, "You mean you haven't seen it? Oh my fucking God!"

As much as he really didn't want to know, Flint's confusion must have been obvious. "Seen what?"

There was no other way to describe it. Jubilee squealed like a prepubescent girl. "You must be the only adult in the entire world who hasn't watched _The Ass-vengers, the Earth's Mightiest Horndogs, Orgy Edition_."

Flint had no words. None at all.

Naturally, his companion had no difficulty filling the void. "It's rumoured that the funding and casting choices were made by Tony Stark himself. I have a copy if you'd like to borrow it. Scott tried to confiscate the DVD but when I mentioned that they'd added a scene with his girlfriend and a couple of the other X-ladies since the Avengers are pretty much a complete sausagefest, he quickly gave it back. So, you wanna watch it?"

"Er, not really. No," Flint somehow managed to spit out.

Jubilee shrugged and pulled back into the traffic.

Suddenly, the woman's driving was the last thing on his mind. Avenger porn? Seriously? The fact that Tony Stark was probably involved was of little surprise. What was somewhat shocking was that the billionaire hadn't been parading the production around the mansion. Perhaps the man really didn't know of the film. It wasn't until the pair were pulling back into his parking spot that something occurred to Flint. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you bisexual then?" he asked as he exited his car.

Raising and eyebrow, Jubes just looked at the archer as if he were completely stupid. "Um, duh!"

"Oh, okay then," shrugged Flint.

A genuine grin broke out on the firecracker's face. "So you're not going to tell me that bisexuality's a myth, then?"

The ex-Avenger snorted. "Of course not. My best friend's bi too. Let me guess, Scott's somehow to blame. Isn't he?"

"Yeah," laughed Jubes as she tossed the keys to their owner. "Jean mentally bitch-slapped him for me when she found out about her boyfriend's lack of tact and knowledge."

"Good," smirked Flint vindictively before he smoothed it from his face. "So we're square now, right?" he asked.

Jubilee tilted her head as she considered the question. "Hmm. Almost." She chuckled at the not-very-well-disguised sigh from the ex-Avenger. "Don't worry, you'll know what to do (when the time comes) to gain my total forgiveness. I'm not particularly subtle."

Flint snorted at this. "That's for sure," he snorted as Jubilee saluted.

"Anywho, I gotta jet. I have my Mandarin class in five," said Jubes.

The ex-Avenger stared at the young woman for a few seconds before he inquired, "Why on Earth would you need to learn Chinese? I'm sure you said you were already fluent in it the other day."

A bubbling laugh peeled around the garage. "I teach the class, Flinty," she noted with a smile. "The Prof-inator asked a few of the older students to take some of the more obscure languages to free up the adults for the more demanding classes. I have Mandarin, Noriko does Japanese and Petey takes the Russian group." She looked at her watch and cursed. "Dude, I really gotta go like right now. Bye Biceps!" she hollered as she quickly left the garage.

Flint pocketed the keys he'd been holding onto and tracked down Charles. After a brief discussion, the bald man suggested that the archer should leave his mental shields for a day or so to give himself a rest. Especially since he had his Danger Room session in the afternoon. Now that was something he was looking forward to. In the end, he agreed with Xavier's idea that he should check out a few of the classes in progress around the school. In particular, the language ones.

The first classroom the ex-Avenger hit up was Jubilee's one. To his surprise, there were only seven mutants of varying ages sitting around a single table. They were working on writing a paragraph in Guānhuà characters. The woman herself was moving from person to person, kindly pointing out errors and conversing in Mandarin but reinforcing in English when necessary. She seemed to have an excellent relationship with her students and all in all, Flint was impressed. He enjoyed the calm atmosphere before silently slipping from the room. As he was closing the door he cheekily returned the teacher's conspiratorial wink.

Flint's second stop turned out to be run by a mutant he'd not yet seen before. Like Hank, this man was also covered in blue fur but had startlingly yellow eyes. The other main difference was the addition of a gently swaying tail. The mutant smiled widely when he spotted the interloper before disappearing from view in a puff of blue smoke. "_Guten Tag!_ (_Good afternoon!_)" chirped a Germanic voice from directly behind him, as a hand fell on his shoulder. Unfortunately Flint's honed reflexes reasserted themselves and it wasn't until he'd thrown the furry blue man through the air that he realised his mistake.

There was another bamf sound and the mutant reappeared near the classroom roof. He grasped the stationary ceiling fan and swung on it to change his fast trajectory back toward Flint. A bamf later, the ex-Avenger found himself lying on the floor with the odd mutant standing in an exaggerated pose on his chest. "And zat, _meine studenten_ (_my students_) vas...?" he questioned the class at large. "Remember ze _vier_ (_four_) terms ve vere just talking about."

"Oooh!" squealed a small girl with pink wings that Flint vaguely recognised. "That was invitation, isn't it?"

The blue man held up a finger. "Correct, Pixie. By tossing me vizout varning, it vas an invitation to fight. Remember, an invitation is a temptation. It must be bold or it vill not be enticing enough to lure a true varrior into a bout. For example," the mutant said with a smirk that instantly put Flint on edge, "a bold move," the fuzzy guy mischievously said as his tail wrapped around Flint's hand. He stepped off his chest and used his tail to throw him into the air.

Flint acrobatically tumbled and landed agilely on his feet, despite the unconventional lift.

"_Ausgezeichnet!_ (_Excellent!_)" cheered the blue man somewhat maniacally. "Notice how ze opponent is already in a fighting stance, having unconsciously agreed to ze invitation." Flint actually hadn't until it was pointed out. "Keller. Vhen I flipped him up, vhat role vas I playing?"

A twenty-year old-ish looking guy with black hair snorted. "Like that's hard. You were the attacker and he was the victim." He rolled his eyes as he unconcernedly leant back in his seat.

"Exactly," agreed the blue man as he disappeared and reappeared within a second. The only difference was that when he bamfed back, he was holding two swords and immediately flung one directly at Flint.

Deftly grabbing the sword after diving to the side, Flint rolled to his feet with the weapon poised in a defensive stance. With a war cry, the furry man leapt forward and began an intense attack. It was then that the ex-Avenger realised that the teacher was subtly telegraphing each move so he could easily defend them to make sure nothing seriously dangerous would occur, so he copied the technique and was silently thanked a wide grin.

The pair duelled for several minutes and there were many appreciative hoots and catcalls from the class before the blue man bamfed mid-attack to the back of the room, startling the green guy Flint had met at dinner a couple of days prior.

"And vhat vas zat last tactic, Herr Borkowski?" he asked the still recovering lizard guy.

"Evadance?" he squeaked out hopefully.

"Almost. Ze correct vord is avoidance and is used to describe vhen ze victim dodges an attack completely. Zank you for your help, Herr...?" asked the blue man.

"Robertson. Flint Robertson," said the archer with a smile and a touch of relief. Apparently his improvised participation in the class had come to an end. It was clear that the furry guy was an excellent athlete and was well versed in combat techniques.

"I am Kurt Wagner, but in the Munich Circus, I was known as the Amazing Nightcrawler," the mutant said with a low bow. It was on odd sight since the guy's tail was still wiggling around behind him.

Flint's first instinct was to mention that he had been in a circus too but that would blow his cover. "Sweet," he smiled when the mutant was upright again. "I'd love to stay for the rest of your class but Xavier suggested I try to check out as many lessons as mutantly possible. It was a pleasure to meet you," he said with a wave before he headed out the door."

After Nightcrawler's interesting film studies lesson, the rest that the ex-Avenger later visited were quite boring in comparison. He saw Summers taking an advanced mathematics class that went right over his head. What the hell was a quadratic equation and why would he need to know it? He then enjoyed watching Logan yelling at a worn out group of students on the running track. The last two lessons he saw were both via webcam links projected onto screens at the front of the room. The first was an ethics class with Xavier and a Scottish woman called Moira via the feed and the second was a Spanish lesson from a chocolate coloured woman that the students referred to as Señora Reyes.

Flint had a modest lunch amongst the lessons and when it was almost four, he quickly made his way to the Danger Room after donning a plain black sleeveless shirt and trousers. Finally, some sort of combat training! After almost daily sessions with the likes of Captain America and the Black Widow, he'd felt a little out of sorts after six days of inaction. In fact, the only muscle he'd really exercised was his brain with his psychic shielding tutorials.

The room was empty but for Ororo who was clad in her black combat suit. "Good afternoon, Mr Robertson. How has your day progressed thus far?" she inquired with what appeared to be genuine interest as she handed over a comm-link.

Flashing a winning smile in response while he jammed the electronic device securely into his ear, the ex-Avenger said, "It's been an eye-opener. I sat in on some different classes and was really surprised. It seems like how I'd imagine a regular school would run."

The chocolate coloured woman nodded her head with a smile. "We've discovered that new students respond better to a familiar environment and routine during dramatic life-altering events," she noted before her eyes narrowed in thought. "Strange. According to your file, you spent six years in the public school system before your father passed away. Your previous statement implies that you have never attended traditional schooling in your life."

Flint sent a self-deprecating grin her way. "It's funny you should bring that up because I haven't," he started before taking a deep breath. "First, I want you to know that Xavier and a few others already know this so don't think I'm some sort of infiltrator or something but I'm not who I appear to be."

The woman allowed a little lightning to spark around her fingertips to show the man that she was listening carefully and was more than prepared to take action if necessary. "Please elaborate."

Despite being a little weirded out when her eyes clouded over with silvery-white, Flint said, "We've actually fought together once before during that Skrull invasion last year as Strike Team Omega."

The stormy film left the woman's eyes as a contemplative gleam took its place. "There were seven of us. Jean and I plus the Black Widow were the females. Clearly you are not the Thing or Power Man. Despite your black hair, I doubt there would be any sort of event that would require Doctor Strange to hide in plain sight with us. So you are Hawkeye of the Avengers, then?"

"Yeah," confirmed the archer with a small smile, "but if you could keep that to yourself for the time being, it would be most appreciated."

Ororo nodded before her eyes drifted south to the gloves on his hands. "So, can I assume those are the work of Beast and Forge?"

Flint nodded as the hiss of the automated door drew the pair's attention to Jean and Hank. They were casually chatting about one of Pym's recent articles in _Scientific American_. Despite being blindsided by the news of his identity, the chocolate coloured mutant cordially greeted her colleagues before saying, "As you played a large role in the creation of these gloves, Hank and since you Jean, have an excellent memory for previously encountered teammates' brainwaves, am I correct in guessing you were both aware of this man's true identity?"

"Indeed, Miss Munroe but Charles begged my silence on our newest companion's behalf," stated Hank diplomatically with a somewhat sheepish look.

"Me too," agreed Jean.

"Greetings," came Xavier's voice through the Danger Room speakers, causing the archer to jump in surprise. "As Storm seems apprised of the situation, we can begin training. Remember, only mutant names are to be used in the field, as our identities are to be protected at all times. For the purposes of this session, Hawkeye will do for now. Each mission will be led by a different teammate. The first is an attack scenario. The Fantastic Four have intercepted a genetic re-sequencer from Doctor Doom and are intent on handing the technology over to SHIELD. Storm, your team is to destroy the machine before it can be exchanged."

The empty room shimmered and the four of them stood in what appeared to be Central Park. Flint was once again awed by the holo-technology on display. The trees gently swayed in the breeze and the happy shrieks of playing children filled the air.

"Alright," said Storm as she instantly gained the team's attention. "I will patrol the skies. Phoenix, scan the psychic plane. See if you can track the Fantastic Four with your senses, Beast. Hawkeye, I want your eyes on the surroundings for SHIELD. You know how they operate. Keep coms open and clear unless necessary. Go."

It was almost freeing for the ex-Avenger to be in the field again and the fact that the X-man's orders were precise and sensible reminded him that he was working with highly skilled field veterans. As Maria Hill is a level nine SHIELD operative, her safety is paramount. She would be surrounded by at least six hidden snipers, about four armed guards and perhaps seven nearby civilians would circle the drop zone in case additional support was required. That was his in.

Hawkeye casually walked around the nearby parkland as he searched for the disguised agents. He was extremely surprised when he actually recognised one of three women doing yoga under a shady tree as a first year recruit he'd trained a few years ago. As they were so synchronised, he assumed that all three were agents. His quick eyes picked out a man asleep nearby whose breathing was too shallow to be genuine, a homeless woman wearing SHIELD regulation boots and a younger woman who was pretending to write in a diary. The silly thing was wiggling her pen over the exact same spot without moving her arm. What an imbecile. "I have the drop site," breathed Flint over his comm as he gave the coordinates to his team.

"Copy that," noted Storm.

"I have six plain-clothed agents and I guess there will be a like number of snipers. Hill is yet to show and will have four armed guards with her," added Flint as he casually dropped to the grass and basked in the sun.

"Acknowledged," said Storm. "Hold your position, Hawkeye. Beast, take to the trees and stay out of sight. Phoenix, can you locate the snipers?"

There was a pause over the comm before Jean announced, "I have them. Their weapons are tranqs. How should I proceed?"

"You said there were six plain-clothed agents, correct?" asked Ororo and when Flint affirmed it, she asked him to describe them.

"I have assumed control of the snipers and have each plain-clothed agent in my scopes," acknowledged Phoenix, causing the ex-Avenger to internally shudder. Bloody mind control again.

"The Fantastic Four are rapidly approaching," noted Hank as Flint spotted Maria emerging from a shady grove.

"Hill's here," he whispered.

"When I give the word, Phoenix, take the shots and then disable the snipers. Beast, disarm the guards and Hawkeye, distract the Four with Phoenix's eventual support while I cloak the clearing," ordered Storm. When Hill was almost at the centre of the grove and the Fantasticar had just landed, Storm said, "Go," and the six plain-clothed agents all fell as one.

"Taking fire!" yelled Hill and her protectors closed ranks as unconscious snipers started falling from the trees. A fog began to fill the clearing. As soon as she heard the shout, Sue Storm had her hands up and was no doubt projecting one of her invisible force fields around her team.

Before his sight was completely obscured, Hawkeye reported, "Mr Fantastic is in possession of the package."

Remembering the SHIELD files on the Fantastic Four, Hawkeye knew his fire, ice, gas and electricity attacks were useless against the Invisible Woman's force fields. A smokescreen would be unnecessary with Storm's fog and a flash-bang's effect would be negligible. That left him with two options. While acid may eventually work, he was quite certain that while her force fields were strong, they weren't soundproof. He tapped his left ring finger repeatedly until he held an extremely powerful sonic disc in his hand. He flicked it toward where he thought the Four were standing.

A sonic scream pierced the air and a few moments later, a red glow appeared with a loud, "SUE!" Apparently the Human Torch had flamed on. The fog in the area began to thin with the heat dissipating the weather anomaly and Flint soon could see the Invisible Woman lying prone on the grass, with a very pissed of brother of hers hovering above her. When the man spotted the fake-mutant, he let out a war cry and flew to the retreating Hawkeye. "I'm gonna fry you until you're crispier than a Thanksgiving turkey," he yelled.

"I don't think so," Hawkeye called back as he leapt aside to avoid a jet of flames. He dodged a second wave and was about to get a really bad case of third-degree burns but was saved by Phoenix who telekinetically held the flames at bay.

"I've got this," the woman yelled as she held her hands aloft.

"Hawkeye," said Storm, who had allowed the fog to disperse completely and was fighting hand to hand with Hill. "Find a way to destroy the target. Beast, take the Thing out of the equation."

"Assuredly," agreed the furry mutant as he cannonballed through the air at the orange-ish hero. The armed squad he'd defeated laid on the grass in a heap.

Flint was rapidly tapping his right pinkie finger and was about to throw the electrically charged disc at the genetic re-sequencer but what felt like a truck slammed into him and he went flying through the air. "The Invisible Woman is back in play," he said as he used his momentum to roll back to his feet in a low crouch. She looked extremely pissed off and he found himself being pummelled by a barrage of invisible fists. "I could use a hand," he grudgingly choked out.

The punches ceased and the fake-mutant realised that Storm had sent a bolt of lightning the Invisible Woman's way while she was occupied. Unfortunately, her distraction allowed Hill to knock her to the ground. An expanded arm was snaking its way to the SHIELD agent with the genetic sequencer held firmly in its grasp. Just as the exchange was almost made, the limb ran into an invisible force. "Susan? What are you doing?" Reed Richards shouted at his wife, his confusion was apparent. "We need to get this to Agent Hill immediately."

Before anything else could be done, Mr Fantastic's arms and legs lifted from the ground and began to weave themselves into some sort of odd-looking Celtic braid. He was too busy trying to extricate himself from Jean's unconventional prison that he failed to notice that he'd released the package, which Storm obliterated with a single lightning bolt. "Mission accomplished," the chocolate coloured woman said. "Scatter and we'll rendezvous when the coast is clear."

Flint, who had now made it back to his feet, shot immediately into the trees again. He watched as Ororo and Jean took to the skies while Hank sprinted for some nearby bushes. Just as the ex-Avenger was about to clear the area, his sharp eyes noticed something odd. The Fantastic Four were looking smug instead of cowed as they approached Maria Hill.

"Agent Hill," said Sue Storm-Richards with a smile, "I believe you were looking for this." She waved a hand and an object appeared, floating in mid-air. Apparently she had the device invisibly fortified under their very noses which meant the machine Storm had destroyed was a decoy.

Flint readied another electric disc, knowing he'd only get one shot at this. The moment the device touched Hill's fingertips (knowing it could no longer be invisibly shielded for her to grasp it) he accurately flicked the disc from his vantage point which easily destroyed the machine.

Hell yeah!


	11. Actively an X-man

**A to X**

_Chapter Eleven - Actively an X-man_

Flint found it to be a strange experience to be praised for his actions in the field. No one really bothered to do so since his exceptional aim was expected, not really welcomed but each X-man (and woman) felt it necessary to do so for salvaging the first mission, Storm in particular since she was the leader at the time. Despite his best intentions, he felt his cheeks heating up with slight embarrassment.

Phoenix was placed in control of a defensive assignment where the four of them had to protect a young mutant from a few squads of MRD goons for ten minutes. She set Storm as air support, both Beast and Hawkeye as guerrilla defenders with the task of ambushing and stopping as many of the ground troops as possible while she telekinetically shielded the young girl herself. The plan was sound and they outlasted the time limit easily.

The third mission was led by Beast who was charged with disarming four bombs simultaneously in an otherwise empty room. There were no available tools to work with other than the mutants (and fake-mutant) themselves. Phoenix was able to remove the bomb casings when Storm produced an electronic surge but unfortunately, the electrical current proved too strong and detonated the devices, resulting in the team's first fail.

Although Flint could feel the sensation of overwhelming heat, it didn't actually hurt him. Until this point he'd wondered what an injury in the Danger Room would feel like. He hadn't expected the first instance to be a fatal one but he'd take what he could get. At least now he knew he shouldn't be harmed while training. What he was more worried about was leading the final exercise. In all his time at SHIELD and with the Avengers, he'd only been in charge on solo missions and even then, they were usually overseen by a handler. This would definitely be a new experience for him.

At least Xavier was playing to the ex-Avenger's strengths. His mission was to lead an infiltration team through a private laboratory and steal a mutant-targeting missile guidance chip. He was given a couple of minutes to examine the layout and expected countermeasures of the facility before being allowed to retrieve three items from the adjoining lab. It was strange to be undertaking the strategist role but he selected his tools and distributed them among the team.

The four approached the installation by foot from the back. "Alright Phoenix, you're up first," he commanded and the woman nodded her head. "Please fly up and find a clear line of sight to the manager's computer system."

"Sure," the mutant agreed as she took to the skies. She hovered out in the open and Flint was just thankful that the heist was occurring at night. There were a few scattered searchlights but their coverage was certainly lacking. "I have it. Now what?" she asked.

Flint judged the distance and tapped his left pinkie against his palm two times before accurately lobbing the disc at the designated window. The acid ate away a small hole in the glass. "Alright, I need you to send the USB over and insert it into the PC. The program should automatically decrypt the hard-drive to facilitate remote access."

The team watched as Phoenix completed the order. She just managed to connect the devices before she needed to abruptly avoid one of the searchlights before re-joining the team on the ground. It was an odd experience for the archer who on the few occasions that he did need to order an agent around, was usually met with scathing retorts and often outright opposition. Odd yet somehow satisfying.

"Beast, please access the internal and external security protocols from your laptop while Jean stays as defensive support in case you're spotted. Storm, can you take the pair of us to the roof access door, please?" he asked.

"Of course," noted the woman as she gently but securely grabbed him around his chest and lifted him skyward. They hovered awkwardly over the building until Beast announced that the sensors on the roof had been temporarily disabled. "You're heavier than you look," decided Storm as she lowered him at the doorway.

"Are you calling me fat?" he asked jokingly, to the rest of the team's amusement. He opened the door and led the chocolate coloured woman toward the lab. It took Beast's technical genius to unlock the private elevator and they almost screwed it up in the hallway to the lab door. If Flint hadn't managed to put his arm out and stop Storm from walking into the hidden laser alarm grid, their cover would have been blown. His eyes spotted the well-disguised cavities in the wall. She raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Lasers," he noted tersely.

"I can't disable them from my end," noted Beast over the comms. "They're voiceprint protected."

"Hmmm," hummed Flint as he examined the hallway. They weren't on the schematics he'd looked over earlier. No doubt it was one of Charlie's hidden bonuses. "I think they're only ankle high but I'm not entirely sure. If I could see them... Beast, any chance you could alter the frequency to make them visible to the human, er mutant eye?"

"I'm afraid that's beyond my current capabilities," said the blue mutant regretfully.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," suggested the chocolate coloured woman as her eyes turned as stormy as her name. A thin fog began to permeate the corridor and the grid was revealed. His original assessment had been correct, the gird was only slightly above the floor. Since the height of the corridor was unsuitable for Storm to give the archer another lift, they deftly stepped over the light green beams and were soon standing outside the lab door.

The biometric sensor stopped them from progressing further but Flint was delighted that his guess had proven to be correct. The door was made of a thick form of glass, not metal. "Beast, is there anything in the form of internal lab security?" he asked and smirked when a negative response came through. He removed the final gadget he was allowed to bring with the team from his belt and attached it to the centre of the door via a suction cap at around knee height.

Flint pressed a button on top of the cap and a long arm extended out from the device. At the end of it, a laser started to eat into the doorway as it slowly circled around the machine. It took four orbits to fully pierce the transparent but reinforced material and he switched it off before gently pushing the circle of glass into the lab. He carefully entered the room after asking Storm to stay by the door.

The lab was easy for the ex-Avenger to navigate and he quickly found the guidance chip they were looking for. Unfortunately, as soon as he picked it up, a piercing alarm sounded and the lighting in the room changed from white to red. "Quick," he yelled to Storm, "take it and get out of here." Without question the woman hastened to oblige. His last view of his teammate was as she flew out of the room.

"Hawkeye, there's a security team headed to the lab ASAP. It's my estimation that they'll be there in one and a half minutes," Beast said.

Before Flint could say anything, Phoenix said, "We have company, seven guards inbound."

"Okay," said Flint, "Storm, get that chip to the team as soon as you can. Phoenix, please defend Beast to the best of your ability, with Storm in support when she gets there. Beast, see if you can set some of their systems going haywire before they lock you out. When the guards have been defeated, head for the Blackbird and if necessary, take off without me."

Flint heard the affirmatives to his plan and absently noticed that both Jean and Hank were less than impressed with his directives but complied regardless. "Thirty seconds," noted Beast, reminding the man that he had guards inbound. It wasn't like he'd forgotten, he was a professional espionage agent after all but it was nice to know that the team cared.

Remembering the vents from the schematic, Flint kicked open one that was located under a lab bench and just slipped in as the guards entered the hallway. They cursorily swept the lab since they couldn't see any other signs of intrusion and assumed it was empty. Flint deftly shimmied through the passage until he came to an aperture by the front exit. It would be risky but it was his only real shot of escaping quickly.

Flint readied two full-strength discs while he examined the layout of the four guards, who were all armed with machine guns. Two were by the door, one on each side. The third was by a hallway to the left of the room while the last stood right in the middle. He heaved a deep breath before sliding his fingers through the grille and dropping one of the discs to impact on the floor.

As a loud sonic scream echoed through the room, the four unsuspecting guards dropped to the floor and Flint took the opportunity to kick the covering off its moorings and acrobatically leapt to the floor. He punched the middle guard in the face, knocking him out and dropped the second disc, causing a blanketing smokescreen throughout the room. Ignoring the other guards, he used the diversion to slip out the door, despite their confused gunfire. He ran for the cover of the nearby trees before circling to the extraction point.

When the four were airborne in the jet, the simulation ended and Jean threw herself at Flint, who managed to not fall flat on his ass at the unexpected embrace. "After all that gunfire, I thought you'd been killed!" she shrieked.

"Um, Jean, it's just a simulation. Plus, I've survived much worse over the years," Flint reassured her.

Jean pushed herself back and glared at the man. She took a huge breath and was probably about to berate the archer but thankfully, the door swished open and Xavier rolled into the room. "Well done everyone," he congratulated. He looked at Flint and asked, "So, how did it feel to work with the X-men?"

"Weird," Flint replied before his mind could catch up with him. At the slightly surprised, angered, shocked and amused looks on Charles, Jean, Ororo and Hank's faces respectively, he quickly added, "Em, like, good weird. At SHIELD I was just another gun. Another sniper to do their bidding. Even with the Avengers, I was always told what to do. I've never had to take any sort of leadership role before. If I ever tried to tell my colleagues what to do, they would pretty much mock me and ignore me anyway. All in all, it just felt strange. Sorry if that's not what you were looking for," he mumbled toward the end of his rambling explanation.

"Aw," cooed Jean mercilessly, "you're just too cute!" Hank rolled his eyes at her teasing but couldn't suppress the smile on his face either.

"Jean," reprimanded Xavier although he too wore a small grin. "In our team, we appreciate honesty above all else. Since we only have each other to rely upon, our team bonds over trust, so please, do not censor your thoughts and feelings around us."

Flint frowned. "I'll try my best."

Xavier turned his attention to Storm. "What do you think of his offensive abilities, personal control and overall performance in the exercises?"

The chocolate coloured woman stood silently for a moment as she collected her thoughts. Eventually, she said, "His aim is flawless, although that was to be expected. He can clearly think on his feet and can use his discs in versatile ways. As he said before, he's very good at following orders but could use some leading experience. Other than that, I think he'll make an exceptional addition to our team."

Flint tried not to blush at the praise and failed dismally. Did she really think that highly of him?

The professor's eyes moved to Jean who spoke unprompted. "His defensive skills are not as developed as his offensive ones. No surprise there but his stealth coupled with his long range capabilities make for some interesting possibilities. Nothing a bit of mutant training won't solve."

"Anything to add, Beast?" asked Charles thoughtfully.

The blue mutant tapped his chin in contemplation. "My only recommendation at this time is that whoever he's working with should be fully informed about what he can do, in order to fully utilise his abilities."

Xavier nodded. "I agree." He turned his attention back to Flint. "I do have a question for you though, Mr Barton. How many times has one of your superiors used the word 'please' during a mission?"

"Uh, never. Why?" Flint inquired suspiciously.

The professor's grin morphed into a slight smirk. "You said it four times during yours."

"I did?" asked Flint aloud with surprise.

"Indeed," agreed Hank. "Although it was refreshing to be treated courteously in the field, it is not conducive to short, decisive orders."

"Sorry, I didn't even realise I was doing it," muttered the ex-Avenger.

Ororo shook her head. "There's nothing for you to apologise for. Now that it's been pointed out to you, I doubt it will happen again," consoled the mutant.

"What does need to happen," noted Jean, "is that you need a mutant name to not only maintain your cover among the team but to help disguise you from your former associates."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that," admitted Flint sheepishly. "I totally need something new, don't I? How about Random since I do have a lot of different, smaller powers?" he suggested.

"But they're not randomly selected," disagreed Xavier with a slight frown.

"Perhaps you could be Octo-something or other since you have eight different abilities?" put forward Beast.

"Isn't there already a Dr Octopus that often fights Spider-Man?" wondered Jean aloud.

"Yeah," agreed Flint, as the memory floated back to him. He was part of the Sinister Six and really, who came up with both of those stupid names? "I don't want to be even remotely associated with that idiot."

"I thought he was a super-genius?" noted Hank dryly.

"Genius, shmenius, his name's still tacky," muttered Flint to himself, causing Jean to chuckle.

It was Ororo who made a decent suggestion, "Instead of focussing on what powers you possess, how about we try the action used to produce them."

Jean's smirk became downright evil. "So you're suggesting we call him Tosser then?"

Hank and Charles snorted loudly with amusement.

"I think not," protested Flint. "I like the idea though, I could be Thrower, Pitcher, Flicker or something."

"I like Flicker," noted Ororo. "It suggests the throwing action but also describes the brief flicker of the power in use before it dissipates."

"Flicker," echoed the ex-Avenger to himself. It sounded pretty good. He briefly wondered what Tasha and Coulson would think. Tasha would probably just snort out that it was almost as gay as Hawkeye and Coulson, well, his opinion was no longer wanted or needed, so fuck him. "Yeah, let's use that. I like it."

"Excellent," acknowledged Xavier.

Flint laughed before mock bowing to the bald man. "It's a pleasure, Uncle Charlie, to be accepted into your little band of mutants as Flicker, the not-so-mutant master of throwing shit," he magnanimously proclaimed. Hank applauded his speech as Jean doubled over with laughter. Even Ororo let a few chuckles escape.

"I didn't realise that projectile excrement was one of your powers," added Hank, to the group's continued mirth.

The collective made their way to the Danger Room door, chatting about Flint's new codename. Before they exited the room, Charles reminded them all that Flint's connection to Avengers and his true name was to be kept confidential for the foreseeable future. It was clear to the newest X-man that although none of the others would have forgotten this, they obviously greatly respected the wheelchair-bound man since they only nodded in agreement instead of rolling their eyes or making snide remarks in return. He could understand why, the man was simply amazing.

At dinner that night, Xavier gained the room's collection through a subtle psychic clearing of his proverbial throat. He announced that Flicker would be joining the X-men for the moment and gave a basic outline of his abilities. Cyclops didn't appear to be happy with the news, probably because he hadn't been previously briefed but Jubilee seemed to be very excited for him. Peter was gently smiling too as he sat next to the other blue mutant. Kirby or something Wagner, wasn't it?

Jubes came over to congratulate him as soon as the announcement was over and made sure he knew that she couldn't wait to work with him on the field. He had a strong feeling she just wanted another excuse to ogle him, not that it really bothered him. She could look if she wanted to, just as long as she didn't touch!

Before toddling off to bed, Flint held a conversation with JARVIS. The sarcastic artificial intelligence always served to brighten his day and he told the computer program all about his thoughts on the X-men so far and what had happened since their last discussion. The best part being how wonderful it was to be physically active again for a change. He'd felt rather lethargic since he left Avenger's Tower and although he mostly attributed it to the dissolution of his damned arrangement with Coulson and running away from his friends, he realised that sitting around and doing nothing wasn't particularly helpful either.

Wednesday dawned bright and early for the newly dubbed Flicker. He decided to head to the Danger Room to complete a little training. When he first entered the room the day before and came clean to Ororo about who he truly was, his sharp eyes noticed a computer panel on the wall that seemed to control the room from the inside. He was determined to see if he could operate it for himself. Xavier had mentioned the night before that he had been granted mid-level access and he wanted to make use of it. There was no way he was going to allow himself to fall into the trap of laziness. He'd already sulked for almost an entire week. Enough was enough, despite how much curling into a ball and ignoring the outside world appealed to him.

When the sliding doors hissed open, Flint realised the training room was far from empty. There were several mutants using the holographic gym on the far left side of the room and a smaller contingent were completing some group yoga on the right. Directly in the middle was Jubilee, who was executing some impressive gymnastics in the empty floor space. She tumbled through the air like a pro and he was certain she had several years of experience in the art. Without thinking twice, the fake-mutant made his way toward his friend.

"Hey Jubes, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better," sang the ex-Avenger in a poor parody of the Beatles song, Hey Jude.

Although the woman blanched while she got her speed up in a run, she flawlessly performed a cartwheel, layout, double layout, punch forward and even added a small leap with a slight flourish at the end. It was impressive to watch as it was an underutilised move that hadn't been seen in competitive competition for years.

Flint couldn't help but clap as she reached him after snagging a towel from nearby. "Morning Biceps," she chirped with a nod of thanks for his applause. She wiped the sweat from her brow and caught a water bottle that had been hurled at her from somewhere behind himself.

Flicker could feel the slight breeze as it passed his head and his quick eyes searched the nearby reflective surfaces for any clue as to who threw it. He caught sight of the culprit on the back wall and knew of only one mutant so far who had (at some times) metallic coloured skin. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the Russian and said to Jubilee, "If Peter was aiming for me, he needs more practice." He enjoyed watching the moment her eyes widened before she artfully covered up her surprise.

A small glint in the reflection of the back wall was the only warning the ex-Avenger got. His reflexes took over as he leant to the side and one-handed cartwheeled to the left. The stopwatch that had been tossed narrowly missed and Flint couldn't help but smirk at the gruff snort of dismay from behind him. It was hard to keep a straight face when he heard, "_Чертов __ублюдок_ (_Fucking bastard_)," muttered somewhat angrily with a small tinge of amusement.

"What was that, Petey?" asked Jubilee with a smirk, as if she knew he'd just said something naughty and was immensely pleased with him for it.

"I said, 'lucky dodge,'" the Russian lied, as he slammed a silver hand strongly on Flint's shoulder. He refused to show his discomfort which helped him to cover his expression at the lie.

Flint looked up at the silverish man. Once again he hated being rather short in the grand scheme of things. "Lucky my ass! That was pure skill." He supposed his complete disregard for the unusually pigmented man was probably honed by hours spent in the company of the Hulk.

"I doubt it," snorted Peter inelegantly.

Despite his best intentions, the ex-Avenger couldn't help but defend his honour. Clearly the man was baiting him but his reply flew out of his mouth without permission. "Don't believe me? Care to make it interesting, Teapot?" He wanted to smack himself in the forehead after that one but it was too late to take it back.

The look of glee that settled over Jubilee's face was frightening and the piercing gaze she sent the Russian's way clearly promised immense punishment if he were to refuse the challenge.

Peter wisely said, "Of course, _Красивый_ (_Handsome_). What did you have in mind?"

"Kraz-what?" asked Flint questioningly despite knowing exactly what the other had said. He needed to keep up appearances but he couldn't help the slight warmth that went through him at the word. Only once had Tasha used the term of endearment in regards to himself and he was quite certain she was beyond drunk at the time. He was slapped hard the next day when he'd asked her about it and had to look up the word himself. The Black Widow denied ever saying it in the first place although both were well aware that she was in denial.

Rolling his eyes, "Emo-boy," the Russian incorrectly clarified. Flint was rather impressed. If he hadn't already known the man was lying, he would have believed the falsehood hook, line and sinker. Apparently the other was an accomplished liar and he made a mental note to never take anything the Russian said at face value.

"Oh, okay," accepted Flint. "Anyway. The bet." His eyes flitted around the room before falling on the racks of sporting equipment at the back of the room. There seemed to be a healthy stock of tennis balls. Excellent. "I bet that if you had twenty tennis balls and even using your silvery gift of enhanced strength, that you couldn't hit me more than three times."

Peter looked floored for a moment before a wide grin split his face. "You're so on, _Красивый_. When I win, you're going to be my slave for the day."

Flint couldn't help but snort. There was no way he was going to lose this, whether the challenge was accidental in its inception or not. "I believe you're going to be mine," teased the ex-Avenger in return. Oh the possibilities...

The pair had drawn a bit of a crowd. A dark-haired teen gestured to the wall where the supplies were being kept. Six canisters of tennis balls floated upward. They opened and twenty balls were counted out into a small bin, which sped next to Peter. "_Спасибо_ (_Thanks_), Julian," he said cheerfully as he plucked one of the green orbs from the others.

Julian smirked back and said, "Good luck."

"Pfft, I don't need luck," Peter snarked playfully.

As the two men talked, Flint made his way closer to the back wall, ready to dodge the high speed projectiles that would be soon to come.

"Alright," smirked Jubilee, as she drew the unplanned audience's attention to herself. "I'll ref and my calls stand. Don't like it, renege and face the consequences. Twenty balls only, go!"

The crowd cheered as the first sphere was almost immediately hurled.

Thanks to many hours of dodging an angry Hulk, Flint easily sidestepped the first few balls. When Peter realised he was not doing too well, he upped his strength. The ex-Avenger would have been lying if he said the increase in speed was easy to handle.

With fourteen balls to go, Peter was clearly a little frustrated and hurled two at once. Despite an impressive acrobatic flip, Flint found himself hit in the shoulder by one of the orbs. "Hey, no fair!" he complained.

Jubes just shrugged. "No one specified one ball at a time. Too bad."

Flint's eyes flicked back to Peter's and the wicked grin that was plastered there was enough to cause a small feeling of heat to surge through his body and a high-speed tennis ball to hit him in the forehead due to his inattention. Ow.

Peter looked a little aghast at the spot that already began to rapidly purple, since he'd expected the man to dodge it but shook his head and got back to business.

Now that Flint was ready for combo throws, he evaded the rest of the balls thrown his way. He turned his victorious smirk Jubilee's way but was surprised to see a shrewd and calculating look on her face for a moment before it was swept away. "Biceps wins!" she cheered to the slight confusion of the onlookers, since both men had rather impressive muscles. "You know, the new guy."

Flint turned his attention back to the disappointed looking Peter. "Tomorrow, your ass is mine!" he chuckled gleefully, noting the slight pink tinge that appeared over the man's silver hue. Yes, now that he had an incredibly good-looking slave for the day, tomorrow was promising to be great fun.


	12. Aversions to X-pectations

**A to X**

_Chapter Twelve - Aversions to X-pectations_

After winning the wager with Peter, Flint spent the rest of the day feeling extremely pleased with himself. He flitted from class to class, poking his head in here and there. It marked the first time he heard Angel's voice. The winged mutant had a rather melodic and almost hypnotic tone. He noticed many doe-eyed stares from the girls and a couple of the boys in the French class, as they drunk in the foreign words they probably didn't understand. It appeared to Flint's eyes that despite the blond mutant's best efforts, nothing was being learned in the room.

Warren Worthington the Third allowed a small smile to grace his features when he heard the disappointed sighs and mutinous mutterings from the students. He'd announced that Flint would be permanently taking over of the class the following Monday. There were some interested glances Flint's way but the rest of the students were clearly upset about the change of staff.

Flint tried really hard not to roll his eyes at the whinging around the room.

"Do you have to stop teaching us?" complained a small brunette girl with a lovesick expression on her face.

"Don't go!" demanded a harsh-looking boy before fixing Flint with a cold stare.

"_Sérieusement__? __Lui?_ (_Seriously? Him?_)" whined the guy Flint remembered as Julian from the Danger Room that morning in almost flawless French. "_On dirait qu'il __ne __sait même __la différence entre __un homme et une __femme__, et encore moins __être en mesure de la __décrire __en français__._ (_He looks like he wouldn't even know the difference between a man and a woman, let alone be able to describe it in French_.)"

Angel reddened slightly and Flint hoped it was in anger on his behalf instead of embarrassment. Unfortunately it turned out to be the latter. He stuttered out a few weak remonstrances in both English and French while the dark-haired teen churlishly argued in only the foreign language. Others began to add their thoughts and feelings to the conversation and the ex-Avenger could see the other adult in the room struggling to keep his composure.

Flint was reminded of when he witnessed a similar situation in his third year of working for SHIELD. Fury appointed a green officer to detail a briefing but the attractive woman was harassed by the junior officers relentlessly until she was saved by a passing Agent Coulson. He walked blandly into the room and with a few soft but pointed words, chastised the juniors and supervised the rest of the meeting without a single expression. It was the first time he'd gotten to see the unassuming man take charge and even then, he'd felt the stirrings of arousal. Continued contact over the next couple of years cemented his desire until he suggested that damnable relationship, no, arrangement.

A loud yell drew Flint back to the present as Julian angrily rose to his feet, his chair scraping the floor roughly behind him. "__Putain de__ merde. Je ne vais pas apprendre le français grâce à ce néandertal_. _(Fuck this shit. I'm not going to learn French from that Neanderthal.)"

As Warren seemed to be unable to deal with the din, Flint decided that enough was enough. In a cold and unimpressed (but not loud) voice he said, "_Asseyez-vous__, __petit trou du cul__, __et __arrêtez de vous __ridiculiser_. (_Sit down, you little asshole, and stop embarrassing yourself._) Unlike Ph... er, Coulson, he doubted he kept the angry expression off his face. A well-dressed girl sitting toward the back of the room chuckled quietly to herself, confirming his hypothesis that virtually no one could understand French much at all. Only Julian and the brunette appeared to do so.

Julian's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell open in shock. Flint meaningfully glanced downward to the teen's seat and he followed the non-verbal cue immediately with a deep red blush spreading across his cheeks.

The entire class' attention was now entirely riveted on the ex-Avenger. Like that would phase him, he'd performed in front of hostile crowds for years in the circus. He would have snorted with amusement if it wouldn't undermine the undivided attention he'd already garnered.

"I don't particularly care if you want me here or not," Flint said apathetically, although he eyed Julian evenly. "I was personally asked by Uncle Charlie to take this class over, so I will. I'm sure many of you know how persuasive he can be."

There was a small flutter of nods and wry affirmatives around the room.

Flint continued his monologue with, "I've learned many languages from one of the most brutal instructors ever. French is one of them and I've been tasked with passing that tutelage on to you. It will not be easy and chances are you will end up hating me almost immediately. Languages require determination, hard work and concentration for success." His eyes flicked to one of the girls in the second row of desks. "If you intend to spend the majority of the lesson texting your friends..." The girl's mouth fell open with surprise but his eyes moved to her right and focussed on Jubilee's friend Teresa, "...drawing Celtic designs in your art book..." She blushed guiltily before he looked at the group as a whole, "Or drooling over your winged teacher, you will not pass this class."

The silence in the room was deafening. The ex-Avenger was internally smirking to himself. This was kind of fun. Not quite as enjoyable as torturing the junior SHIELD agents but still, pretty good.

"But it's not all bad news," Flint said since the other occupants of the room were reluctant to speak up. "If you do apply yourself and persevere, you will succeed. Everyone has the capacity to be an expert in the language, such as Julian and er..." He glanced at the brunette at the back.

"Monet," she supplied with an honest to God French accent. Flint had heard both fake French and the real deal for much too long now and could easily tell the difference between them.

"Just remember that if the classes are too challenging for you," Flint finished, "I am available to help if you wish or you can transfer to one of the other lessons instead. French is an elective subject which means you picked it yourself. Hopefully, you'll master it to the best of your abilities."

The class still appeared to be in shock. Knowing (from his circus days) that the entry and exit of a performance were always the most memorable moments, Flicker silently eyed the students once more before purposefully striding from the room. He shut the door and moved to the side. It took almost eight full seconds before a large din of noise erupted from within the room. Smirking to himself, he jauntily sauntered to the cafeteria.

When Flint stuck his head into the German class he was also to take over, the reception was totally different. For starters, there were way less students; only eleven in total. Secondly, they appeared to be well versed in the fundamentals of the language and seemed to possess an interest in the subject. Lastly, Kurt (he was laughed at by all when he'd called him Kirby - oops) offered his services to both Flint and the students if they felt more comfortable coming to him for help.

The ex-Avenger tracked down Peter after dinner to find out what his timetable for his day of slavery was like. Fortunately, his Russian class was first up which would leave the guy free to do his bidding for the rest of the day. "Your servitude will begin at the conclusion of your class," Flint announced pompously for all nearby mutants to overhear.

"Of course, _Красивый_ (_Handsome_)" he grumbled good-naturedly.

Flint couldn't help but feel a small warmth in his gut at the Russian endearment. "Emo-boy," he muttered darkly under his breath as that was what the man had pretended the translation was last time. "I'll meet you there and be prepared to work," he said to end the brief conversation.

The problem was the ex-Avenger didn't really know what he should get him to do. He needed to suffer a little for being a smug bastard but how should he do it? They guy didn't look like he was easily rattled but then again, neither was he and he'd been practically terrified the day before... He didn't realise how wicked his smirk was until Jean called him on it. He shrugged at her before winking and walking back to his room.

When he entered his room, Flicker snapped into high alert. Something was amiss and his quick eyes realised that his pillow had been moved. Why on Earth would anyone mess with that? Was Peter pulling some sort of pre-emptive prank? He slinked silently around the room in a general sweep and heard a slight click coming from his bathroom. He readied a couple of ice discs and leapt into the doorway to the girly shriek of Jubilee, who had just finished applying some glittery lip-gloss.

"What the hell? Muscles!" she shrieked as she held a hand to her heart. "Are you trying to frighten me to death?"

"Well excuse me for freaking out when I heard someone in MY bathroom," Flint snarked back.

The pair glared at each other for several moments. The fake-mutant looked down at the two ice discs in his hands and since they were now armed, he casually tossed them aside, into the shower wall. They shattered and caused two circular ice patches to form like deranged snowflakes. The pair stared at the ice spots, looked back at each other, returned to the ice before glancing back once more.

Suddenly, both were collapsing with inexplicable laughter at the ridiculousness of whatever the hell had just occurred between them.

When they reined themselves in, Flint asked, "So why did you need to sneak into my room, Jubes?"

The woman flushed a little but predictably held her nerve. "I was sent on an errand. Forge wants to see you in the basement, like, now."

"And since I wasn't here you invited yourself in?" he snarked with humour and a slightly raised eyebrow.

Jubilee shrugged unrepentantly. "So I'm a dead cat. Deal with it."

Frowning in confusion, Flint echoed, "Dead cat?"

The firecracker couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You know, curiosity..."

"Oh!" said the ex-Avenger when he comprehended the odd phrasing of the common metaphor. Trust the mallrat to put her own spin on such a trivial saying. "Curiosity killed the cat - dead cat. I get it now."

"Yeah, that," Jubilee announced breezily. "Anyway, Forge needs you right away so you better head over now. Hey, why would you need to talk to him about secret things anyway? You're totally not tech based. Unless..." she trailed off and her eyes widened. "Did you have to cut off your own leg to survive or something?" The wide grin on her face proved that she really hoped it was something exciting.

Flint rolled his eyes again with exasperation to cover the fact that he was internally freaking out. This wasn't something he'd thought about with his cover story and he needed a non-interesting explanation, stat. What feasible reason could he come up with for needing the X-men's foremost mechanic to talk to him? His mind whirled through several unlikely scenarios before he came up with a weak but serviceable one. "I've been having a little trouble with my hearing aids and he's been looking into making better ones for me."

"Hearing aids? You're deaf?" Jubilee questioned with absolute surprise. "You don't sound like most deaf people."

Flint gave her a wry smile. "I was in an accident and am up to eighty percent deafness. My right ear's a little better than the left but without the aids I can hardly hear a thing." He let her look at the SHIELD customised tech and had a chilling thought. Maybe the organisation had placed a tracer or recording device into them too. It wouldn't be the first time that they'd kept tabs on their agents unconventionally through their tech. Maybe they were onto him right now! His heart began to speed but he forced himself to calm down. If they had done so, Fury would surely have tracked him by now. Thank goodness for that!

"Oh," said Jubes with a look of pity. She glanced somewhat morosely at the floor.

"Hey, it's fine," soothed Flint gently. Despite his aversion to human contact, he leaned over and gave the woman a hug.

"Anywho," ground out Jubilee a little gruffly, "you better go see Forgery before he hunts me down for being a sucktacular messenger pigeon." She flashed him a smile as she let her hands trail over one of his biceps as she walked from the room.

Flint couldn't help but chuckle at the brazen woman before he shook his head and left his room too.

"Flint," greeted Forge in his neutral tone when the ex-Avenger made it to the basement and locked the door securely behind him.

"Hey Forge, what's up?" the latest X-man said by way of salutation.

"First off, have you encountered any issues with your gloves so far?" asked the Native American Indian with a piercing gaze at the objects in question.

"Nah," Flint answered with a quirked smile. "Only my own stupidity if anything."

Forge's eyes darted up to meet Flicker's. "Explain," he demanded.

"I've been having a bit of trouble with my cutlery." The ex-Avenger couldn't help but look sheepishly at the floor. "Apparently I'm used to curling my little fingers around them and either melt my forks with acid or zap myself with electricity via my knife. I'm quickly getting used to it though and have been continuously correcting my grip to compensate. There's been nothing mechanically wrong so far and I've tested various strengths of every one of my eight types of disc."

"Good, good," noted Forge with a slight nod as if he were going through an involved mental checklist. Flint considered that might be exactly what he was doing. If the mutant was gifted with machines and thus computers, he'd be more used to following long and drawn out command lists for coding than most others. The American Indian's voice brought Flint's mind back to the present. "Have you completely used up one of your compounds yet?"

Shaking his head in the negative, Flint simply said, "Not yet."

"Well, get to it," noted Forge dryly.

There was a beat of silence. "What? Like right now?" Flint stuttered out while blanching at the fact that he'd just sounded exactly like Jubilee.

Forge just stared evenly back.

"Oooookay," Flint warily agreed but didn't hasten to move in the slightest.

Turning his back on the fake-mutant, the Native American Indian donned some welding glasses before moving to face Flint once more. "I suggest you exhaust the flash bang canister as it is the least destructive of your 'powers'. Here," he added as he tossed a spare pair of goggles the other's way. "I want you to feel how your gloves will act when you've run out of a compound. Plus, I need to make sure that they aren't malfunctioning and explode or something."

"Explode?" questioned Flint somewhat breathlessly. Was that a real possibility?

"It's doubtful but still an option," added Forge, doing nothing to soothe the archer's concern. In a way Flint respected the man's honesty but still, sometimes a white lie was a better alternative.

"Okay, here goes nothing," muttered the ex-Avenger before he started manufacturing full-strength flash bang discs and dropping them unconcernedly onto the floor. Unfortunately, it was one of the compounds he'd used the least but since he was protected from its blinding effects, it wasn't really a bother. Just time consuming.

Eventually, as Flint was up to his sixth press out of ten, the tip of his left index finger gave a strong vibrational pulse. It ceased and returned continuously like a turning signal of a car. It felt very odd but there was absolutely no way he could mistake it. He extracted the half-charged disc and tossed it to the floor. "There, it's done."

Forge nodded as he removed his glasses. "Alright, let's take a look." He opened the chassis of the left glove and showed Flint the empty canister within. What he hadn't noticed last time (and it's not that he hadn't seen it, he was just too excited to be getting the gloves to care at the time) was that each cylinder of compound looked a bit like a hypodermic needle. They were all see-through but capped at the end with a golden valve. As the compound was used up, the golden valve seal would gradually move toward the injection end of the tube. "As you can see, that one is empty," noted the serious man as he pointed to the only cylinder where the gold end was right up against the needle point.

"Yep," agreed Flint.

"As you can see, each tube has been labelled to help you know where each compound rightfully belongs," said Forge.

Flint nodded docilely.

Forge moved to the lab bench where a briefcase was laying and picked it up. "Here is all you'll need to replenish your power gloves," the man said as he handed it to Flint.

Accepting the case, Flint went to open it but discovered that there were no clasps on it. Only a strip of letters from a to z. "And to open it...?"

Forge let out one of his rare smiles. "Just enter a password of your choice. I'm sure you don't need to be told to use something that won't be traceable to you or a derivative of something particularly significant like a birthdate etcetera."

"Of course," snorted Flint with amusement. "Is there a length limit?"

"No, I left that to your discretion," said Forge who obligingly turned away so as not to see the code being entered.

Flint was extremely pleased that whenever he would enter the password, he'd be wearing his gloves and wouldn't leave any fingerprints. So he decided to keep it short and reversed a word from his time with the Avengers that wouldn't likely be thought of. He entered S-I-V-R-A-J and the case bleeped twice before opening.

Forge spun back around and said, "Now the briefcase will only open with that code, ensuring your security. Now I'm sure it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out how to refill your cylinders but I'll take you through the procedure anyway."

Flint couldn't help but privately agree with him. In the briefcase were eight fat tubes, each clearly labelled and full of the different compounds for his gloves. At the bottom of each tube was a small hose with an even tinier nozzle at the end.

"I know this will sound stupid but your first step is to make sure you take the nozzle of the correct compound that you wish to top up. Mixing the compounds would likely cause an explosion or mechanical error of some kind," said Forge as he picked up the hose of the flash bang tube. Flint didn't deign to respond so the Indian continued, "Then attach it directly into the golden one way valve of the glove." As he did so, there was a mechanical bleep and a button Flint hadn't noticed on the nozzle started flashing a bright blue. "Then simply press the button, the briefcase will take care of the rest."

Forge pressed the small blue button and it changed colour to red and stayed constantly on. The syringe in his gloves started to fill and expand out as the large tube in the briefcase barely contracted. There must be a hell of a lot of compound in there to make the change virtually negligible. After roughly a few minutes, there was another mechanical bleep and the light turned green and began flashing once again. "Press the green light to disengage and that's it."

Flint nodded in understanding. "That seems simple enough," he agreed.

"I suggest you take this opportunity to top up the rest of your compounds. It wouldn't do to find yourself in the field and short on some of your options just because you didn't top up the chemicals often enough. I propose making your glove recharging an early morning or nightly ritual."

"Sounds like a plan, Forge," agreed Flint. He'd probably end up completing the task each night before he could allow himself to sleep. In a way, it would be no different to how he'd ensure his quiver was completely stocked and the guns dispersed around his room were fully loaded before he could drift off. Replenishing the discs was even easier, he just had to push the premade rolls of them from his briefcase into the empty slots in his gloves where they would fit.

The pair chatted about inconsequential things as Flint recharged the gloves and the process occurred quite quickly. Especially when Forge explained how he could recharge all eight cylinders at once if necessary as each was a separate entity and worked independently of the others. When the exchange was complete he shut the briefcase closed with a snap and relatched the gloves.

"Thank you so much. You have no idea how much everything you've done means to me." It wasn't often that the ex-Avenger was this serious but he meant every single word.

"I'm happy to have helped," said Forge with just a small hint of warmth. "When you need one of your large cylinders replaced (and I don't expect that to happen for quite some time) or if you're riding low on discs, just let me know and I'll sort it out for you."

"Will do," agreed Flint with one of his dazzling smiles. "Thanks again, Forge." With a smile, he left the room.

After grabbing a snack, Flint poked his head into Xavier's office. The head mutant was completing some forms at his desk but still warmly invited him in.

"Hey Uncle Charlie. I was wondering if you could help me get into the Astral plane to work on my shields some more," asked Flint with a grin. He couldn't help but be amused at the nickname he'd foisted on the bald man. "I'm sure you're busy but I think I'll be able to work on them by myself."

Charles smiled and readily agreed. "Of course," he said as he waved the man over to his couch. He nodded to himself a couple of times before saying, "Now that you've made the journey there a few times now, I believe you should be able to make the connection without physical contact with me."

Flint perked up at that. He must be getting better at the whole psychic thing if the man felt he was up to it. Nodding eagerly, he followed Xavier's mental voice as best he could. It took several tries and quite a few demonstrations of colourful language (to his mentor's vast amusement) but eventually Flint managed to enter the Astral Plane.

Charles stayed for a bit to make sure Flint settled in before making his escape. He had a lot of Government forms to peruse. When he'd completed them, he returned to Flint's mindscape and couldn't help but feel a burst of pride on the man's behalf. He'd come an extremely long way in a very short space of time. _It looks fantastic_, he said mentally, starting the other badly, causing a couple of the balloons in the tent to pop.

_Jesus, Charlie_ gasped Flint as he tried to calm his racing heart. _Give a guy some warning!_

Xavier laughed richly. _And miss that kind of a reaction? I think not, Littleflint._

Flint couldn't help but join in with his friend's mirth.

_It's time for dinner_ though Charles aloud and the pair returned to the Earthly Plane.

They shared a roast dinner with the rest of the Xavier Institute before Flint retired to his room for the day, briefcase in hand. It wasn't until later, way after his nightly conversation with JARVIS and just as he was about to collapse onto his bed, that he remembered that his pillow had been moved. Most likely by Jubilee.

A disturbing thought occurred to the ex-Avenger. Had she been sniffing it or something? He couldn't help but wonder. The rest of the bed remained untouched so she hadn't been laying in it so what was her deal? She always seemed to be groping his arms but if she was starting to become a bit stalkerish, well, it could turn out to be a problem. She had been acting a little weirdly when he came across her in his bathroom.

Flint eyed the moved pillow warily and gently picked it up. His heart plummeted into the depths of his intestines. Underneath where the pillow was lying was a small package with a post-it note on the front. It read, _You know what you need to do for my complete forgiveness for ditching me as your shopping partner - Love Jubilee _with a smiley face which despite looking like every other smiley face out there appeared to be smirking evilly at him.

The archer already felt great trepidation as he unwrapped the small present and his worst fears were confirmed. There sat the one DVD he had never wanted to see. He groaned as he reread the cover in front of him. _The Ass-vengers, the Earth's Mightiest Horndogs, Orgy Edition_. Knowing that the firecracker would want to discuss it in great detail to make sure that he'd actually watched it, he heaved a great sigh and wished he'd never met the demon spawn called Jubilation Lee.


	13. Antagonising the X-patriate

**A to X**

_Chapter Thirteen - Antagonising the X-patriate_

Watching the pornographic DVD modelled after himself and his former team was nothing short of traumatic but Flint knew that if he wished to gain Jubilee's assistance with his torture of Peter, he needed to watch it. Thoroughly. There were six harrowing scenes to survive and several times he almost gave up but he girded his stomach and sucked it up.

What did surprise the ex-Avenger was the variety in those six scenes. For example, the third one began with Thor. He was getting himself off in a conference room (for some unfathomable reason but then again, like porn needs to make sense) before he was interrupted by Captain America. They exchanged blowjobs before beginning to shag when Fury stormed into the room, closely followed by Hawkeye and Black Widow (both of whom were lacking in muscle tone. Seriously, they looked extremely weak) who proceeded to pass Widow (he refused to think of that harlot as anything remotely like his best friend for his sanity's sake) around as if she were a football.

After a while, Fury announced (while he was riding Widow and being fucked from behind by Hawkeye - he'd almost wanted to vomit right then and there at that awful image. Obviously the superspy himself was unaware of this DVD or everyone involved with the movie would be thoroughly dead) that he thought the Avengers needed some support on their next mission. So in walked a poor imitation of the Fantastic Four. Let's just say, that if Sue Storm-Richards ever found out that the directors had her actress screwing all three of her teammates (one of which was obviously her brother in real life) well, there wouldn't be very much of them left at all.

And to think, that was only one scene of six.

Flint quizzed JARVIS about whether Tony really had a hand in its conception because he couldn't help but think the genius had nothing to do with it. All in all, it was a ghastly piece of shit. The artificial intelligence vehemently denied the insinuation and stiffly announced that his creator had bankrupted the company and used his potent influence to keep the DVDs existence as much of a secret as possible. Unfortunately, there were already several millions discs sold worldwide but he'd set up a program on the internet which destroyed any digital duplications it came across and Pepper had a staff of twelve that were hunting down the hardcopies. It took all of his persuasive talents to stop JARVIS from informing Tony of Jubilee's disc. If Stark destroyed it, the mallrat would explode in anger and he'd rather avoid such a fate if he could.

As much as he despised the poorly thought out and terribly cast pornographic DVD, Flint admitted to himself that he was rather impressed with the Spider-Man actor's flexibility. In fact, the latest X-man did get himself off (twice) while watching the pornstar sucking on his own cock.

Jubilee squealed when the archer told her of how much he enjoyed the fake Spider-Man's performance. She scared him too much to lie (but not as much as Tasha could) and then quizzed him in-depth about a few of the moments in the DVD just to make sure that he had watched it in its entirety. She seemed very satisfied with his responses, although she continued to eye him speculatively from time to time.

When Flint survived the intense grilling, he enlisted Jubilee's help with his plan, who readily agreed with a wicked smirk. He left a list of details and his car keys with her before making his way to the classroom where Peter could be found. Lurking outside the door, he noticed that despite how sexy the voice sounded while it was listing relevant Russian vocabulary, there was an underlying hint of concern. So, he was a little worried about his upcoming punishment? Excellent.

Flint stepped into the room and moved to an empty seat at the back. Thanks to Julian and the other gym goers from the other morning, news of the bet and the result was common knowledge. He easily ignored the murmurs from around the room and silently watched the conclusion of the lesson. Peter's grasp of Russian was impeccable, which was to be expected since it was his first language and several times Flint had to stop himself from laughing aloud at some of the man's muttered comments, which regularly bemoaned his pupils' stupidity.

Soon enough, the school bell rang throughout the mansion and the students cheerfully cleared the room. Several of them sent either Peter or Flint a smirk on the way out. Peter fussed about, ensuring that everything had been cleared up. Flint recognised the stalling tactic but magnanimously allowed him to continue. Eventually, and with a laborious sigh, Peter made his way over to Flint with a rather sheepish expression.

"Alright," the Russian conceded, "my life is yours until midnight."

Flint couldn't help but briefly imagine the Russian naked in his bed and valiantly tried to ignore the small flash of heat he felt rush through him.

"Well, you don't have to sound so pleased about it," noted Flint sarcastically with a grin.

"_Мудак_ (_Asshole_)" muttered the Russian under his breath.

Narrowing his eyes at his slave, the ex-Avenger lied, "I don't know what you said but I have a strong feeling that it wasn't nice."

Peter shrugged with a half-smile in response.

"If you keep that up, I'll add an extra leg to your journey," threatened Flint and he was pleased to note the smile slid from the mutant's face.

"Journey?" echoed Peter questioningly.

"Oh yes," nodded Flint with a wicked grin, "this morning I need you to collect some purchases from around New York for me."

Peter looked searchingly and suspiciously at his master. "Why do I get the feeling that there's a catch to this trip, _Красивый_?"

Flint faked innocence. "Catch? There's no catch. I've even organised a chauffeur for you."

"That's... great?" said the Russian unconvincingly.

"Yeah, she's waiting for you in the garage," Flint noted. "She knows the destinations and will be phoning me as you progress just to let me know as the whether you've been behaving yourself or not. Well, don't wait around on my account. Hop to it!" he chirped as he shooed Peter from the room.

Flint had a leisurely brunch which included Jubilee's first on-the-job update as she was driving to the first destination. It was an electronics store in the Bronx near the Yankee Stadium. She babbled away happily to Flint about random stuff despite the numerous Russian curses from the passenger seat. Each time he heard the man swear, it made him smile.

Last night, the ex-Avenger had come up with his brilliant plan. He'd been needing to buy five things he'd forgotten on his last two shopping trips but couldn't be bothered going back into town again for. He figured that forcing his slave to travel via Jubilation's questionable driving skills would be a harrowing enough punishment. Then he had another brainwave and decided that making the Russian travel to five different districts within New York would be an even better ploy. So he asked JARVIS (his perpetual partner in crime) to order the items online for him.

The first stop was to pick up a stereo system and the second, a docking station for his phone from a shop on Manhattan Island. Then they'd journey to Brooklyn for a set of surround sound speakers. After that he bought a couple of fragrances from a small shop in Queens before the last stop at Staten Island for an espresso machine. He'd become quite the coffee connoisseur after living in Avenger's Tower for the last couple of years. Despite the fact that the X-mansion had good quality coffee already, it still tasted somewhat sludge-like in comparison. Their tea, however, was totally top-notch.

While Jubes was touring/torturing Peter all around NYC, Flint took the opportunity to visit Forge once again. He'd remembered while eating his toasted sandwich that Xavier had scanned him from head to toe the day he arrived so SHIELD hadn't added a tracker to his hearing aids but he was hoping the tech guru would replace them anyway. For some reason, he just felt uncomfortable relying on them now. Plus, Jubilee was already suspicious enough of him so he thought he'd better follow through on his half-truth. Thankfully, the Native American Indian agreed to do so and was reasonably sure that with Jean's expertise, they'd be able to improve upon SHIELD's already impressive design.

The rest of the morning was spent fortifying his psychic shields and Jean tested them once more. She was impressed with the improvements and informed him as such.

"You know, I think they're almost finished," the redhead stated warmly. "You only occasionally leak thoughts now and it would take an expert psychic to break into your mind to assume control. Of course, Loki is one such individual but after another month or so, I think it's highly likely that you would be able to hold your own against even him."

Flint felt a strong swell of pride at her words. He never wanted to be at someone else's mercy again and this was definitely the way to go about it. "Thanks," he said softly and genuinely.

The psychic slapped him the back with acceptance of the compliment before letting him know that she'd scheduled a danger room practice for him and some of the older students and X-men for later in the afternoon. She apologised for the late notice but he waved them away. It was interesting working with mutant powers. Each individual had their own powers and style which made for much more interesting training sessions.

"Really? That's cool. Who's going to be there?" the ex-Avenger asked with excitement.

Jean smiled at his enthusiasm. She couldn't help but find it strange that a regular human would be so accepting of living among a mansion full of mutants. It was people like him that gave her hope that Xavier's dream of peaceful co-existence between the two types of humanoids could be truly successful. "It's an exercise in mixed group dynamics so let's just say that there will be a lot of us in attendance."

"Sweet!" chirped Flint before asking her if Jubilee and Peter would be there too.

"Yes, they definitely will but I haven't been able to reach them as of yet. They must be out of the mansion for some reason," she noted.

Flint chuckled a bit before explaining about the bet and the consequences, causing Jean to laugh at the Russian's misfortune. "I've only been in a car with Jubilee behind the wheel once. Never again."

"Yeah," agreed Flint. "That's for sure." A wicked smirk crossed his face, "Check this out!" he chirped as he called Jubes and put it onto the speaker phone setting.

"Yo Bossman!" chirped the woman over the audible screech of tyres.

"_Святой __ебем__!_ (_Holy fuck!_)" came the disgruntled yelp of Peter in the background, causing both Flint and Jean to chortle.

"So," continued Jubes without a care in the world, "we're on our last leg before returning home. I can't believe you want an espresso machine. That's just weird. What's wrong with our coffee?"

"It tastes like shit," replied Flint sourly. It truly did. Jean raised an eyebrow with amusement.

Jubilee snorted and once again the car sounded like it skidded along the road. "Strange, I thought the worse it was, the more it would appeal to an emo like you. In fact, you're like the worst emo ever. You're like uber-chipper and jokey and stuff." That note of suspicion had returned to her voice.

"Nah, any chipperness I have came straight from Uncle Charlie," Flint hedged, "I only started doing the whole emo thing to spite my father. He'd go on about the 'pathetic values of the youth of today's society' and blah, blah, blah. His expression the first time he saw all this was priceless."

Jubilee and Jean laughed at the fictitious story as Peter swore in Russian again in the background, causing their mirth to increase.

"Anyway, enough about that old bastard," continued Flint, "I have someone here with a message for the two of you."

"Yes," said Jean. "I need both of you this afternoon for one of Charles' mass training sessions."

"Like now?" asked Jubes with a little concern colouring her voice. "I can totally put my foot to the floor if you need me to."

"_НЕТ__!_ (_NO!_)" yelled Peter with audible fear.

"No need," Jean somehow managed to say between laughs. "The session is set for four o'clock. Don't be late."

"Sure thing, Red Riding Hood. Is Biceps going to be there too?" chirped the mallrat.

"Biceps?" echoed Jean with confusion.

"Yeah," answered Flint with an indulgent smile, "I'll be there too."

"Sweet!" cheered the firecracker before she signed off. They had apparently reached their destination.

The ex-Avenger replaced the phone back into his pocket.

"Biceps?" Jean restated with a smirk.

Flint just shrugged. "It's what she calls me. I don't think I could stop her even if I tried."

"Fair enough," agreed Jean. A thoughtful look crossed her face. "So what's going on between you and Peter? From what I recall, he swore never to be in the same car as Jubilee ever again on the life of his sister and breaking an oath about Illyana is unheard of."

"He lost a bet and I'm an asshole," said Flicker with a wicked flash of white teeth.

Jean gazed thoughtfully at Flint. "Unlike most of the others, I know why you came to be here and exactly what went down with your previous lover."

The ex-Avenger couldn't help but feel a flash of hurt as his mind flicked back to Coulson. Did she really have to bring him up? It was bad enough that every now and then his ex-lover/superior would sneak back into his thoughts, causing all the hurt to resurface all over again. He really didn't need others reminding him of how stupid he'd been to trust the man too.

"I just want you both to be careful. I've never seen Peter take any interest in anyone before so please, try not to get too attached to soon. He deserves so much more that being a rebound."

Flint couldn't help but frown at the woman and feel insulted. "I'd never do that to someone," he protested.

"Look," Jean placated, "I'm not saying that you're out to get him or that I believe the two of you would go poorly together, I just think that you're suffering enough heartache and might not be completely objective at the moment. So please, just take whatever this is slowly."

Despite how much she was pissing the archer off, he realised she was parroting exactly what Tasha would've said if she were here. Well, at least the psychic was putting it much more tactfully than his best friend would have. By the time he looked up to make some sort of reply, he realised she'd left the room. It angered him for a bit. He really wasn't used to people adding their opinions about how to run his life but he'd probably have to get used to it. For some reason, the X-men seemed to care about each other and it was still a little daunting for the lone wolf.

Jubilee and Peter arrived back at the mansion sometime around three and the Russian just managed to get the purchases upstairs to Flint's room before he left to get ready for the training session.

Flint had flashed him a brilliant smile that he used to save for his circus performances that would charm his audience and thanked him warmly for his help. He couldn't help but feel exceptionally pleased at the slight answering blush and the stuttered reply, "Y-y-you're w-welcome."

"Go. I think you've suffered enough so I release you from your servitude, consider yourself on parole. I'll see you at the training session," Flint pompously ordered before he thanked Jubilee for her services after the Russian had left.

"No problem, Flick-Flack-Paddywhack," she smiled.

The ex-Avenger snorted, "How long have you been waiting to use that one for?"

"Meh, I came up with it this morning," she smirked before her face fell into a contemplative look. "Hey, I know that something's not adding up about you. I know you're not evil or anything but I have this feeling that half of everything you say is utter bullshit. Anything you want to confess to Aunty Jubie?" She waited for a few brief moments before sighing. "I thought that might be the case. Well, I think it's only fair I give you some warning. Whatever you're concealing, I'm onto you and one way or another, I'll figure it out. Of course, if you do feel comfortable telling me whatever it is yourself, just look me up. Okiday?"

"Sure," muttered Flint in response, although he doubted the firecracker could work out his secrets.

Without another word, Jubilee sped off to her room to get ready for the training exercise while Flint did the same. Xavier had given him some basic black uniforms with a silver X on the chest. He'd decided to use his eyeliner liberally around his eyes much like war paint and so the only thing he needed to get used to was fighting with short sleeves. It seemed unnatural to feel the fabric stretch every time he flicked a disc but removing them would make links to his former self and that was unacceptable. If Jubilee was already on to him, how long would it take the others?

The ex-Avenger contemplated the situation as he made his way down to the Danger Room. It was packed to the rafters. He didn't really know where to stand. There were the other adults - Xavier, Jean, that dickhead Summers, Wolverine, Ororo, Angel, Kurt (not Kirby!) and a guy and two women he hadn't seen or noticed before.

Then there were the young adults standing sort of nearby but far enough away for it to be noticeable - Jubilee, Peter, Rogue, Theresa, Bobby, Kitty, the green guy, Julian, Monet and several others he didn't really know yet. Oh, plus Jimmy.

Just as Flint began to walk to the middle of the room, since he was unsure which group he should join, he was saved by Professor X who began to speak. "Alright," said the bald mutant. "As many of you have already experienced firsthand, due to our precarious position as mutants, an attack can occur to anyone at any time. I've noticed that each of our teams have been working exceptionally well together but there will always be circumstances when you will need to work with others of whom you won't be too familiar. I've randomly assigned each of you to a team of four just for today. I'll give you five minutes to discuss tactics together before pitting the six quartets against each other."

Without further ado, Flint found himself in the red team and was handed an aptly coloured bandana which he tied around his head. He was pleased to note that he was well acquainted with Jean's powers and abilities. His impromptu stage-fight with Nightcrawler also gave him a broad idea about their synergy but Monet was a different story. Apparently his soon-to-be best French student went by the mutant name, M (which drew James Bond comparisons, as far as he was concerned) and was a complete powerhouse. She was almost invulnerable and possessed super strength, speed and endurance. What chance did a human like himself stand against a woman like her? He was just thankful that she was on his team.

All too soon, Xavier called the six teams back to the centre of the room. "If you hadn't already noticed," the man dryly said, "there's a wide circle on the floor to represent the battlefield. If you touch the ground outside the ring, you're out. If you are hit hard enough to have been knocked unconscious or killed (of course our safety protocols will save you), you're out. If you get held down or neutralised for ten full seconds, I'll call you out. My word is final and everything else goes. We'll start with..." He reached his hand into a small bag and extracted two coloured marbles. "Blue against green."

The teams in question moved into the ring. Everyone else went to the sidelines and sat on the benches around the room. Flint noticed that the teams stuck together and whispered strategies or engaged in good-natured ribbing.

"Ze _blau_ (_blue_) team vill be crushed," noted Kurt somewhat sadly.

"Don't be so sure," noted Jean quietly as the two teams entered ready stances.

Kurt sighed, "Ze _grün_ (_green_) team have three X-men and ze strongest student of zem all."

M made a choking noise in her throat. "I believe I am the strongest student, not Keller," she said icily.

Flint couldn't help but notice she didn't seem to like the only other competent French speaker in the slightest. "But they do have Wolverine," he added himself.

Jean just smirked. "We'll see," she said enigmatically. "I suggest you get ready to block your ears."

The ex-Avenger caught the look of distaste on M's face and realised that there was a downside to enhanced senses and realised that Wolverine would suffer from the same weakness. Sure enough, when Xavier called to start the fight, Siryn began shrieking and Flint pressed his fingers firmly into his ears. Wolverine looked to be in excruciating pain as Angel took to the skies, as did Hellion, leaving the prone form of an Asian woman alone on the middle of the floor.

Rogue ran over to the still stunned Wolverine and put a non-gloved hand on his cheek, stealing some of his strength and healing factor for herself.

"Wolverine's out," announced Xavier. Almost immediately, the knocked-out mutant was teleported out of the ring by the Danger Room. Rogue quickly followed when she was telekinetically picked up and thrown out of the ring by Hellion.

Angel was struggling with a girl Jean called Surge as Siryn and Hellion tried to blast the other from the ring. Hellion ended up winning that battle when Surge blasted Siryn herself, who went sailing out of the battle.

It was official. Flint was totally confused. Why would the Japanese girl turn against her own teammate?

"It's Xi'an," M clarified for him, as she pointed to the Asian girl who was still lying on the floor. "She can possess anyone she gets too close to and takes over their body. I think she hitched a ride in Angel and then transferred herself to Noriko."

Flint couldn't help it, he felt a full-body shudder wrack his body. If it wasn't Loki, it was someone else. He was definitely staying the hell away from that woman.

Arching an eyebrow, M chose to keep quiet.

Just as Angel and Hellion converged on a terrified looking Leech, Surge zapped them both in the back from very close range. Leech had been very clever and had backed toward Xi'an's body and when he was close enough, he negated her power and Surge had retaken control of her own body. Leech stayed close to the body-stealing mutant to stop her from possessing Noriko again and the latter was zapped.

"I knew it," Jean whispered triumphantly to her other teammates. Kurt just rolled his eyes good-naturedly in response.

Yellow and purple were selected to battle next. Despite Jubilee's best efforts, the girl wasn't prepared for a sneak attack from Shadowcat who had been hiding within Rockslide's massive bulk. Anole had been taken out by Psylocke who was in turn neutralised by Chamber. Now he was a scary looking guy with his open chest and face full of glowing power. Shadowcat was only able to stop him by dragging the mutant through the floor and taking both of them out of bounds. Iceman couldn't stand up to the might of Rockslide who pushed the icy mutant backwards. He tripped over a metal rail Flint hadn't noticed before which morphed into a humanoid form. Apparently her name was Mercury. Thus the yellow team was crowned the victors of round two.

This left the orange team as the opponents of the reds. Flint moved with his crew to the centre of the field. Jean was smirking at her boyfriend while Nightcrawler grinned cheekily at Storm and made an appreciative purr. An audible growl could be heard clear across the room and Flint was quite certain that Wolverine was the source. His eyes were drawn to Peter who had changed into his metallic form. M mentioned that his mutant name was Colossus, which was rather fitting considering his statuesque appearance. The last member of the orange team was the pink haired girl with wings who went by Pixie.

Flint was brought back to the present by Xavier's announcement of, "Go!"

And it was on.


	14. Agonising X-periences

**AN** **- **Hey guys. I just wanted to quickly thank the people who are following or have made my fic one of their faves. Not too many people seem to like the slow pacing of my stories so I just wanted to let you know how much I really appreciate it. Also, a huge shout out goes to **PtitBlond**, **Child of Dusk**, **agd888** and **PuraStones** for your kind reviews. Much love for you guys and gals ;-) Anyways, on with the fic!

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><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Fourteen - Agonising X-periences_

Storm tried to end the bout early by blasting a gale across the field but Jean must have anticipated the move and shielded her entire team, although it didn't stop Pixie from teleporting right behind Nightcrawler. Apparently, Kurt used to be the girl's teleportation coach until she became proficient at the art and had surpassed his ability. Of course, that didn't account for his athletic skills and the pair began to battle by porting and bamfing all around the field.

Cyclops decided to test out the newest X-man and was taking potshots at Flicker, who was kept busy as he acrobatically leapt out of the way. Phoenix tried to come to his defence but Storm's lightning blasts diverted her attention. This left M and Colossus duking it out in the centre of the field.

Of everyone on the field, Flicker was currently the most vulnerable. Cyclops' aim was deadly accurate and if it weren't for his years of circus and SHIELD training, he would have been knocked out right away. That said, each of the other battling pairs were at a stalemate. The red team did have one advantage though - two telepathic teammates. Since they'd walked onto the field, Phoenix and M had linked their four minds together.

This allowed Flicker to give them all a much-needed message. _Hey_ he thought loudly (now pleased that he was somewhat more versed in psychic communication and only yelled when he wanted to) as he dodged another crimson beam _I'm going to throw down a deafening sonic blast in three, two, one, NOW!_ He dropped the disc in question and a loud boom reverberated around the room. The four red teammates had quickly covered their ears with the prior warning but the orange team were caught unawares.

_How about ve change dance partners? _mused the demonic looking mutant while he bamfed over to Cyclops.

_Great idea, Nightcrawler_ noted Monet. She flew at Storm who was still airborne but stunned by the unexpected aural attack.

_I'll take Pixie_, decided Flicker. He'd had a couple of run-ins with Loki and the Enchantress in the past couple of years. Teleporters weren't exactly a new concept for him.

_So I get Colossus then_, smirked Jean as she hefted the silverish guy into the air while he muttered Russian curses. Despite the obvious strain she exhibited at maintaining the heavy body's clearance, she managed to drop him beyond the line. Nightcrawler dumped Cyclops outside the circle at around the same time.

Naturally, Storm was their most dangerous remaining opponent so all the red team except Flicker converged on the African mutant.

Everything had been going well for the ex-Avenger. He'd kept the young winged girl off balance with a combination of smokescreen, flash bang and sonic discs which was quite easy to do when her luminescent wings acted like a beacon. Unfortunately, at some point, one Pixie became two, then three. Then a unicorn ran past and Flint realised he was thoroughly screwed.

Flicker's world exploded into a bright, technicolour kaleidoscope of fairy-tale creatures and settings. The pixies flew away and world around him fizzled into another place; a more familiar place. Gone were the bright colours and in its place were the neutral hues of the old SHIELD archery range. Despite the vast technical improvements Tony had made upon the range's original design for his private Avengers Tower one, Flint had secretly preferred the simplicity of the former. Of course, he never told Tony that. The gazillionaire would have either pouted, raged or tried to do a combo of the two simultaneously.

Looking around the room was both nostalgic and calming. His sharp eyes fell upon his old bow which was leaning up against one of the walls. He eagerly picked it up and the nearby quiver. He efficiently set himself up and fell into his usual routine of nock an arrow while inhaling and releasing as he exhaled while deftly grabbing a new one. It was a well-practiced motion which never failed to calm him down.

Flint had just hit his stride and had almost finished half of the 'A' motif that Tony seemed to have adopted to symbolise the Avengers when a soft, almost inaudible female voice called out his name several times. He paused in his actions to listen but couldn't really make anything out so he shrugged and continued his target practise.

Another female voice called out, this one sounded much less friendly but Flint's focus was back on his self-appointed task.

There was a brief flash of light and three women of various ages popped into existence, startling Flint completely. His nocked bow was pointed at them but he quickly recognised the ladies and lowered his weapon sheepishly.

"How did you three get in here? I'm sure you don't have the clearance," he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh my. I'm so sorry, Flint," apologised Pixie as she absently fiddled with a hem on her X-man uniform. She looked around the room with surprise.

"Whatever for?" asked the ex-SHIELD agent with confusion.

The pink-haired mutant glanced at M, then Jean before focussing on the floor.

Monet rolled her eyes. "Megan's wings produce a hallucinogenic dust that if inhaled, creates soothing visions for her victims."

Flint blinked a couple of times. "Wait a moment, so are you saying that she got me high?"

"Exactly," smirked Jean while M flat out laughed. Poor Megan still looked contrite. "We've just slipped into your mind to bring you back to full awareness."

"Oh, okay," said Flint as he put the bow back in the corner from where he'd gotten it.

"Is that a SHIELD crest?" asked M with slight concern as she pointed at one of the many prominently displayed eagle motifs around the room. Within moments, the woman had flown across the room, picked the man up and shoved him roughly against the wall. "So you are a SHIELD spy! Aren't you?"

Flint was struggling to breathe but just as quickly as he was grabbed, he was released.

"Do you honestly think that the Professor would allow a SHIELD spy to infiltrate this mansion?" asked Jean with a supremely unimpressed tone, her hand out in front of her from where she'd telekinetically removed Flint from the French woman's strong hold.

Monet had the good grace to blush slightly with embarrassment.

"This is so weird," said Pixie to herself and unknowingly drawing the other three's attention to her. "How can this dark and colourless place be someone's idea of peaceful?"

Jean and Flint shared a glance and the latter sighed. "This was my old training range. I spent hours here while I honed my skills. I've never felt more at ease than I did in this room."

"I was right!" crowed Monet excitedly. "You ARE a SHIELD agent!" she preened.

"Correction," noted Flint, "I WAS a SHIELD agent. I then graduated to the Avengers for a couple of years before... circumstances changed."

"You were an Avenger?" snorted M with disbelief. "As if. The only team-members who left them are the Black Widow and Hawk..." She trailed off as her gaze fell upon the arrows at the far end of the room. "Well, I'll be damned."

There was a very pregnant pause around the room.

"U-um," stuttered Megan, "Are you really Hawkeye?" Her soft tone and pleading eyes begged a truthful response.

Flint couldn't refuse her and it's not like they hadn't already worked it all out for themselves anyway. "Yeah but can you please keep it a secret for me? If Director Fury were to find me, well, let's just say it wouldn't end well for anyone."

The elfin-like girl smiled. "Sure, I can do that."

The ex-Avenger turned to face Monet. She looked evenly back before sighing. "Fine," she conceded. She looked toward Jean who shrugged.

"I already knew," the teacher said with a smirk.

"Of course you did," muttered M to herself with a sour expression.

"Anyway, let's get you back to the real world, shall we. Warning. This will hurt," the older woman said before a sharp pain flooded Flint's senses. It was all consuming but began to recede almost immediately.

Flint blinked his eyes a couple of times and the Danger Room swam into focus. Jubilee was leaning over him and gently slapping his face. "C'mon, you fucking moron. Wake up already. You're almost on for round two and your team needs you, alright Biceps?"

Blinking a couple more times, Flint groaned out a little and was helped to his feet by the woman. "Bloody hell," he said woozily.

"Yeah, one of Jeannie's mental bitchslaps'll do that to ya," chuckled the firecracker.

Apparently their team had ultimately been successful in their earlier mission, despite his drugged state and were about to enter a three-way battle against the other two winners; the blue and yellow teams. The floor within the circle glowed the three colours and Flint gingerly extracted himself from Jubilee's hold and hobbled slightly over to the red third. Kurt, Monet and Jean were already assembled and all three critically observed the man.

"Perhaps you should sit zis one out, Herr Robertson," suggested Kurt gently.

"I'll be fine," said Flint with a shrug. "I've survived being high and much worse before," he continued with a smile.

M rolled her eyes while Jean smirked. _I bet you have_ she thought at the ex-Avenger.

Flint sent her a playful glare before he turned to mentally assess the opposing teams. Mercury, Psylocke, Rockslide and Shadowcat stood in the yellow third while the blue one was filled with Rogue, Siryn, Leech and Surge.

_What's our plan of attack?_ thought Flint at his team.

"Winging it," said Jean softly when he was close enough. "Psylocke's a psychic, so unless she's removed from the picture, our communication network's shot. She's too experienced not to pick up on our chatter."

"Fair enough, so what's the play?" asked Flint.

Jean thought for a moment, before saying, "M, you're on the offensive. Try to knock out anyone you can. Nightcrawler, run interference and if a strong player could be taken out, go for it. I'll stay back and guard Flicker, who will toss whatever you can at them."

They all nodded at their assignments and indicated to Xavier that they were ready for battle. The yellow team were calmly waiting but the younger blues were still huddled together. They soon moved apart and with an announced, "Go," pandemonium erupted.

Shadowcat sunk into the floor as Rockslide blasted one of his huge rock-fists at Flint. Thankfully, Jean telekinetically stopped it and threw it out of bounds, causing the hulking mutant to be removed from play. He should have kept his arms firmly attached to himself.

Nightcrawler tried to sneak up on Psylocke but the mutant was prepared for him and sliced him through with her psychic katana. Unfortunately for the purple tressed warrior, her weapon fizzled out of existence before she was struck by lightning. Apparently, the Leech and Surge combo was still effective. The two experienced X-men were called out.

Both Phoenix and Flicker realised that both teams' strategies involved attacking the more experienced adults first, meaning that they were likely to be targeted next. It was then that Flint realised that Psylocke being out meant they could psychically communicate again. His sharp eyes spotted something near their feet. _Take us up!_

It was lucky that Jean did so immediately and without question because moments later, Shadowcat emerged from the ground but the flying pair were just beyond her reach. She cursed before diving back into the ground. M managed to push Surge out of bounds but was unaware that the other team had wanted her to do so. Soon she was lying prone on the floor and a now airborne Rogue was flying right at Flicker and Jean.

Flint quickly ran through his knowledge of M's powers that Rogue had 'borrowed'. Invulnerability, super strength, speed and endurance. There was, perhaps, something in his arsenal of effects that might be enough to stop her. He made five maxed out discs of nerve gas. _I need an opening, facing Rogue._

_GO!_ was the telepathic response and Flint didn't need telling twice. He hurled the powerful anaesthetic-filled discs right at the mutant and as usual, his accuracy was spot on. They burst into clouds of nerve toxin around her face. At first he thought the effect was negligible but the woman's trajectory began to change and soon she was plummeting toward the ground. _Well, that was close_ noted Phoenix wryly.

_You're not wrong_ agreed Flint. He readied another couple of nerve gas discs and accurately removed Siryn and Leech from the game. The blue team was out. _How do we get Shadowcat out of the ground?_

_That could be tricky. Unless you have discs of magical energy in those fabulous gloves of yours, the only way she can be attacked is to be taken by surprise. We'll need to split up._

_Great_ thought the ex-Avenger as he was lowered to the ground. Phoenix sped toward the other end of the circle and both kept a watchful eye out for the ghostlike girl. A hand snaked out of the ground and grabbed the surprised woman. The pair reappeared outside the field. Okay, now Flint was confused.

Had Shadowcat just eliminated her own team from the competition? That's crazy! There must be one more mutant still in the game. Flint glanced around the ring but couldn't see anyone. What? He was interrupted from scanning the area as a metal stake pierced his torso from behind and he felt another round of body-shocking pain. Yep, if that had been a real fight, he'd definitely be dead.

"Flicker's out," announced Xavier from the side with a wide smile. "Mercury wins it for the yellow team. Well done." He waited for the applause and congratulatory remarks to subside before saying, "I hope you learned something from battling with others of whom you might be less familiar with. This sort of exercise will become a weekly thing." He then dismissed the assembled X-men with a smile.

Flint was happy to walk back with the horde of mutants toward the elevator. Being drugged and forcibly awoken before being stabbed through the chest (no matter what safety protocols were engaged) hurt like hell. He was very much looking forward to a scalding hot shower followed by sleep. Jubes had just sidled up to him with her calculating gaze but he was saved from another one of her interrogations by Forge, who had stuck his head out of the laboratory. "Flint, I have your improved hearing aids ready. I'd like to fit them now if possible."

Flint glanced at the vast amount of X-men still waiting in front of the lift, then Jubilee and back to Forge. "Sure. Sounds great."

Naturally, Jubilee wasn't to be put off that easily and she followed the two men into the lab.

Forge gestured to a nearby chair and Flint sat stock still in the place indicated. He knew that moving around unexpectedly could lead to further damaging his hearing. Well, that's what his SHIELD doctor had claimed all those years ago, anyway.

The Native American Indian started to remove the old aids but Flint's head felt like it was exploding. He couldn't help but cry out in pain and the stunned tech genius looked at him with surprise. The pain didn't seem to stop and it was worse than many interrogation techniques the archer had survived. He was so out of it that he didn't realise that he was practically screaming in agony.

Forge sent a shaken Jubilee to get Jean immediately while he injected the pain-crippled ex-Avenger with as much anaesthetic as he thought he could get away with, sending the other into unconsciousness.

As Flint began to regain consciousness, he could feel the familiarity of drugs pumping through his system, something he wholly despised. His body felt heavy and almost pleasantly numb but he could tell that it was just a light stabilising dose. If he were still at SHIELD, it would have been three or four times the amount. He blinked his eyes a few times as they adjusted to the harsh glare of reality and looked around the room. Noting that he was still in the lab, he saw both Forge and Jean with their heads together, whispering in a corner. There was another bed with a figure neatly tucked under a blanket with the only indication to its identity being short blond hair sticking out from the end. He just noticed Jubilee sitting next to him and saw her eyes widen in recognition.

"Hey!" she chirped both cheerily and with obvious relief. "Sleeping beauty has awoken!"

"I hope you didn't have to kiss me to do so," Flint quietly noted. Ordinarily, he would have been able to suppress his full body shiver but with the drugs in his system, he failed miserably.

"Oi!" Jubes playfully, "what's wrong with that? I'm well known for my snogging abilities. I have a hundred percent success rate that whoever I lip-lock with sees fireworks!"

Flint snorted weakly at the firecracker as Forge and Jean approached the bed with serious expressions. It was the former who began to speak. "I apologise for sedating you, Flint, but I saw no alternative..."

"You won't fucking believe what those incompetent assholes did to you!" screeched a clearly enraged Jean over her colleague.

The three others in the room looked at the generally sweet-natured woman with varying looks of shock and surprise.

Continuing her rant undeterred, she said, "Those bloody useless shit-for-brains motherfuckers fused your hearing aids to your actual eardrums and I'm not talking about a delicate connection, it's like they took a blowtorch to your anatomy and melted them together. Those cu..."

"Ahem," coughed Forge over his raging friend. "What Dr Grey is trying to say, is that when I attempted to remove the technology, due to being attached to your eardrums, the extraction went poorly. I was forced to sedate you and call in our biological specialist," he said as he gestured to Jean, "who spent over an hour attempting to separate the foreign material from your organic tissue."

Jean moved forward and sat on the bed by Flint's side. "I, I couldn't do it. The damage to your eardrums was irreparable and I had no choice but to remove them completely."

The woman's words made no sense to the ex-Avenger. Well then how the bloody hell was he able to hear their voices if he had no eardrums? "Huh?" was his ineloquent reply.

Jean continued her explanation. "I'm always hesitant to use his powers unless absolutely necessary as they can sometimes be... unpredictable." She gestured toward the other occupied bed. "One of our younger students has the power of biokinesis, the ability to control the body at a biological level. Although his powers are sometimes unreliable, he has an excellent grasp at cell regeneration. In other words, he's well practised at healing the existing injuries of others. As your eardrums were originally healthy and functioning, he was able to restore them."

"Wait a minute," said Flint as he slowly processed the words. "Are you telling me that some kid fixed my screwed up hearing completely?"

Jean nodded her head.

"I won't need hearing aids again?" the ex-Avenger pressed.

Smirking, the doctor said, "Not unless you're in another loud explosion."

A slight frown flitted across Flint's features. "Well, why didn't you get him to fix them up in the first place?" he asked.

"There was a chance that by using his powers on your head, Josh's manipulations might have affected your other senses. Like your eyes, for instance," answered Jean to a deep wince from Flint. "Charles believes that given time and training, Joshua might one day be able to re-write genetic code and alter DNA on demand. We're always cautious with his powers, especially since they take a great toll on him."

"Oh. Okay," said Flint with understanding. Yeah, he wouldn't have taken the chance if his precious eyes were at risk either. Which is probably why it wasn't even suggested to him in the first place. He should buy the guy a fruit basket or something in thanks.

"Anyway," interrupted Jubilee who was looking on with a bored expression. "So I totally just waited around in here for the last couple of hours, so since you're now all healed up and stuff, you should totally treat me and my friends to dinner at the mall for, you know, sitting here, going outta my mind..." she trailed off and stared evenly at the now-healed ex-Avenger.

Rolling out of the bed and to his feet, Flint sighed loudly but with a smile and told his friend to round up the others. Squealing with glee, Jubes tore out of the lab as if Apocalypse himself was chasing her. Flint profusely thanked Forge and Jean for being amazing before following her lead. He needed a quick shower and a change of clothes if he was going to be seen in public.

As soon as he was reasonably cleaned and attired, Flint made his way to the front door and met up with Jubes and the rest of her friends. It was the same group as the first time expect there were a few additional faces. Megan was smiling happily and nattering away to an unimpressed-looking Julian. Monet was shooting daggers at the latter mutant from the other side of the group. Victor was politely listening to the verbal diarrhoea that was spewing from Jubes' mouth while trying not to stare too much at Peter. Despite his best intentions, Flint could feel a scowl cross his face. Something deep inside screamed, 'He's mine! Back the fuck off!' but he kept that to himself.

"Alrighty!" the ex-Avenger chirped, managing to startle the majority of the group much like the first time. "Let's go." Jubilee claimed that due to his stint in the lab, Flint should be driven to the mall by herself. He vetoed the suggestion and didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt at her sorrowful/pissed off expression. If she did drive him, he'd probably wind up dead and his body had already suffered through enough agony for one day. Instead, she called shotgun and her vicious look dared any of her friends to disagree. Predictably, none did.

They journeyed in three separate cars (since there were quite a few more of them than lost time) and soon were taking up a large portion of a diner just off the food court. Julian was still whining that he wanted KFC but grudgingly joined everyone else.

Flint happily munched on his wedges while the others talked around him. He always felt minimally hungry after being sedated and the chilli sauce that come with it was amazing. His task also gave him a reason not keep quiet. This allowed him to really take a good look at the students and friends around him.

Jubilee was her usual self and cracked dirty jokes to a blushing Megan. Unlike last time, the pink-haired, winged mutant caught the attention of the passing public but the bubbly girl seemed immune to the piercing and judging looks or comments that could be seen/heard. Flint's heart went out to her. The funny thing was, since he was sitting next to lizard-ish Victor, no one gave his thick, chunky gloves a second look.

Julian kept looking at the ex-Avenger; it was a little disconcerting. His expression looked a little doe eyed but every time Flint caught his gaze, the look morphed into a disdainful one. Kitty and Bobby were practically all over each other but unlike last time, Rogue didn't seem to care. Her attention was riveted on the younger Jimmy. Apparently, it was accidentally discovered that Jimmy's innate talent cancelled out the absorbing mutant's power and for the first time in many years, she was able to physically touch someone without worrying that she'd knock them out or kill them. They'd been practically holding hands non-stop for a week and now was no exception.

Theresa was immersed in a new comic book (The Birds of Prey) and wasn't really paying any attention to the others at the table. This left Peter and Victor to chat with each other and Flint couldn't help but feel another surge of unreasonable jealousy. It was true, he hadn't asked the Russian out or anything like that but he felt there was a connection between them.

_Oh. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it_ murmured Monet's soft psychic voice in his mental ear. _Peter is quite taken with you_.

Flint looked over at the smirking telepath on the other side of the table. _I thought you psychics didn't snoop in other people's thoughts..._

_I don't. It's not MY fault if unguarded notions are hurled my way but that doesn't mean that I won't listen to them._

The ex-Avenger rolled his eyes with a smirk as he stood up to settle the bill at the register. _Yeah, of course not! _He thought sarcastically. He brushed past a woman as he listened to Monet's psychic chuckling but it abruptly cut off. Looking over at the suddenly silenced telepath, he saw an uncharacteristically worried look on her face.

_That woman's blocking me out, the one who just bumped into you. All I know is that she was definitely up to something_.

Flint looked at the doorway to catch a glimpse of the lady in question. Despite the flowing blonde hair and somewhat shuffling gait, he recognised her immediately. He felt his heart practically stop. SHIT. The Black Widow had found him.


	15. Accurate X-trapolation

**A to X**

_Chapter Fifteen - Accurate X-trapolation_

Flint was too shocked to move for a moment until the cashier cleared her throat and he came to his senses. He distractedly paid the woman and gave her a more than generous tip. In his head, all he could think was _She know, she knows, Tasha fucking knows_ over and over.

In all honesty, the ex-Avenger couldn't remember the drive home or how he came to be in Xavier's office. The taste of tea brought his mind back to the present. He looked down at the cup that he was clearly holding with confusion and his quick eyes noted that he was seated opposite Xavier. The mutant was in his usual position at his desk, shuffling some papers.

Flint raised an eyebrow at the man. Surely, the professor would have been psychically keeping tabs on him and must already know that he'd come back to himself.

"Of course," noted Xavier with a smile in his voice, "but for some reason, others seem to feel uncomfortable if the first thing they see is me staring at them." His eyes flicked up and connected with the ex-Avenger's for the first time. "I'm sure you've already realised that you were suffering from shock."

Flint couldn't help but snort. "Understatement of the century, Uncle Charlie."

"Don't worry, Monet confiscated your keys and (despite Jubilation's vocal protestations) drove you back to the mansion. Peter carried you to here when it became apparent that you wouldn't be exiting the car under your own power. I reassured the students but I suggest that you take the time to do the same yourself at a later time." Xavier nodded to himself as he related everything he felt the other needed to know.

"I will," agreed Flint somewhat numbly. There was a long silence in the room as he worked through a couple of thoughts in his head. He still couldn't believe that Tasha had managed to track him down in just a week. Then again, if anyone could, it would be her. The two of them were scarily similar in some ways although she lacked his superior sense of humour while he nowhere near her level of hand-to-hand combat.

Flint's eyes widened for a moment and he sprang to his feet, startling Xavier in the process and if this had happened at any other time, he would have spent a while congratulating himself for accomplishing the impressive feat of surprising a telepath. He began turning out his pockets, knowing that there were only two reasons that the Black Widow would be clumsy enough to bump into someone. The first was to administer either a poison or sedative. As he was alive and not trussed up against a wall... That left option number two - a dead drop. She'd left something somewhere on his person. He quickly located a small USB flash drive that didn't belong to him. It was tangible proof that he'd been found.

As Flint stared at the device in his gloved hand, Xavier cleared his throat, causing the former to start in surprise. "Shit," he muttered. He'd forgotten that the wheelchair bound man was still in the room or rather, that he was still in his office. "Sorry, Charlie, but I'm going to head up to my room to check this out."

"Of course," agreed the smiling Xavier. "Just remember that I'm here if you need to talk. Also, if you find out something that may compromise the mansion or any of its inhabitants (including yourself) please, let me know immediately so that appropriate steps can be taken."

Flint nodded politely with a small grin and started making his way upstairs at a speed that could be deemed as acceptable, even though he wished he could just screw propriety and run as fast as he could. Alas, that would just draw unnecessary attention to him. When he reached his room, he locked the door behind him and grabbed his man-bag. He made himself comfortable by sitting on his bed and leaning against the headboard before he thumbed the screen to unlock the hidden computer.

"Good evening, Mr Robertson," greeted JARVIS as the screen came to life.

"Hey JARV, how goes the world's most incredible AI this evening?" asked Flint with a smile. The smooth tones of Stark's computer/butler always seemed to calm him. Suddenly Tasha's unexpected appearance didn't seem to be as freakishly scary as it had mere moments ago.

"I'm as corny as Kansas in August," said the AI dismissively.

Flint laughed as he remembered watching South Pacific with Tony and Pepper one afternoon at Avenger's Tower. Despite being a regular human (albeit an exceptional one) the CEO of Stark Industries had the amazing ability to be the only person on the planet who could successfully guilt the billionaire into doing anything she desired and was able to come up with some creative forms of torture to exact her revenge. As he'd really pissed her off that morning (since she knew Tony absolutely hated musicals with a passion) she forced him to sit through three of them with her in a row. In other words, Pepper Potts was a sadistic bitch and Flint loved every minute of it. "So are you in love with a wonderful guy, then?" he asked aloud.

"Of course," agreed JARVIS, "although I'm almost certain that Sir programmed me to do so. It may interest you to know that there's someone..." started the AI but Flint spoke over the top of it.

"J? Where's the USB port on this computer? The Black Widow dropped me a message..." said Flint when a crash could be heard in his bathroom. Within seconds, Flint was on his feet and ready to kick some ass. Whatever SHIELD flunky was in there was about to get the shit kicked out of them. Perhaps it was a little paranoid of him but after seeing Natasha...

A sheepish-looking Jubilee poked her head out of the ensuite and artfully dodged a disc of fire that had been accurately hurled at her head with a squawk. "Shit! Sorry, Flinty. It's only me," she said as she cautiously peeked through the doorway. When she realised that she wasn't going to be attacked again, she heaved a huge sigh of relief before making her way over to her friend. Only then did she allow a smug look to cross her face.

Flint's stance marginally softened but after everything that had just happened lately, he just couldn't relax. Despite his internal anger at the firecracker's obvious snooping he semi-sarcastically asked, "What in my bathroom has you so fascinated that you've needed to sneak into it twice in two days?"

Jubes looked a little contrite but shook her head and the moment was gone. "Actually, I came up here to see if you were alright. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Monet had to drive you home and she wouldn't let me do it! Can you believe it? I mean if anyone..."

"Alright!" said Flint over the babbling mutant. He recognised a stalling tactic when he saw one. "Settle down, yeah?"

Unfortunately, although the Asian girl stopped momentarily, her mouth reengaged mere seconds later. "So, you're definitely Hawkeye, right? Please tell me that I'm not going crazy. I mean, you've been spending time with Forge and even Beast came back to mansion for a bit and that was all for you. Your hearing aids were only mentioned yesterday and Jean ranted about SHIELD for a bit because of them, you know? Plus you're super sneaky and stuff and those acrobatics? Totally Avenger-worthy - no wonder Petey couldn't hit you during that bet, you cheating bastard. You're also so not emo-ful in the slightest and the Avenger porn squicked you out and there's no other reason for that to happen and you just got something from the BLACK MOTHERFUCKING WIDOW!" She barely seemed to breathe during her rant.

With all the evidence stacked against him and the fact that the other mutants were starting to discover his secret, Flint wondered if he should just come clean to the whole mansion. Either way, Jubilee deserved to hear the truth from him first. "Yeah, he's me? I mean, um, I'm Hawkeye."

Jubilee squealed with glee. "I KNEW IT!" she shrieked, causing Flint's ears to ring uncomfortably. She flung herself onto the bed and hugged him.

"Ahem," coughed JARVIS and the two split apart to look at the computer.

Flint glared darkly at the man-bag. "Why didn't you warn me that I wasn't alone, J?" he asked.

"I tried to do so but was ignored," said the AI huffily.

"Oh my God, it's a talking computer! That's so freaking awesome! Do all the Avengers get one?" she asked as crawled forward and tapped random laptop keys.

"No," answered JARVIS dutifully, "and stop poking me."

Flint laughed when Jubes snatched her fingers away immediately, knowing the AI was only teasing her.

The Stark Industries software added, "This particular model was a Christmas present for Mr Robertson from Mr Stark himself and custom made. It's one of only two models that have almost unlimited access to my program."

"Is the other one with Pep?" asked the ex-Avenger with interest.

"Naturally," said JARVIS. If the AI had electronic eyes, Flint imagined he would have rolled them right then and there.

"So you're, like, Tony's pet?" Jubilee added, as she started to prod the sentient computer again.

"I am no such thing," disagreed the AI with an offended tone.

"Chillax," the firecracker ordered before whispering to Flint, "Um, what was his name again?"

The AI answered the question himself. "I am JARVIS, Mr Stark's multifunctional software program and am capable of managing Avenger's Tower while simultaneously aiding Sir with his Iron Man suits. I can interface through voice, screen or holographic displays and have a peak performance speed of 53.3 PFLOPS (petaflops) which in simpler terms means that I run at 157.41% of the world's currently 'fastest' supercomputer."

Jubilee's mouth was left hanging open. "I totally didn't understand half of that but wow, he sure is snarky."

"Much like his master," agreed Flint with a smile.

JARVIS said, "Indeed. As for your previous request, Mr Robertson, four of the nine USB ports can be found to the lower right hand side of the screen."

"Nine?" scoffed Flint. "Why on Earth would I need nine USB's running at once?" he asked incredulously. "Actually, don't answer that JARV. Tony's just overcompensating for something again, isn't he?"

There was silence in the room for a moment while Jubes flopped herself next to Flint on the bed and settled against his shoulder so she could see the display clearly too. JARVIS said, "As always, my answer to your poorly alluded to penis size question is, 'No comment'."

Flint made a noise in his throat. One day he'd trick it out of the AI. One day.

"Dude, haven't you seen the homemade sex-tapes on the net?" asked Jubes in surprise.

"I could," conceded the ex-Avenger as he turned to look at his friend, "but where's the fun in that? I've made it my life's mission to fool JARV into slipping up."

"That day will never come. I have an ongoing subroutine dedicated to it," said the AI.

Flint smirked. "I'm touched." He reached forward and picked up the man-bag/laptop. After locating one of the designated USB ports, he plugged in Tasha's device and placed the computer on his lap. He slightly panicked for a moment since there was a chance the thumb drive could contain a SHIELD tracker or a shell program of some kind but he went with his gut instinct - to trust his best friend.

"I've scanned the drive and there's only a single video file present, the rest of it is unused. Shall I play it now or would you prefer to view it later at your leisure?" asked JARVIS, hinting that the ex-Avenger might not want Jubilee to see it.

Flint thought for only a moment. Jubes already knew who he really was and would probably whine at him for weeks if she got excluded. "Now's fine, J."

"As you wish, Mr Robertson," conceded the artificial intelligence. The screen came to life and no one was surprised to see the Black Widow on the screen. She was donning one of her usual black catsuits and the frame stopped halfway down her ample cleavage.

"Clint," his best friend said. "If you're watching this, then I finally managed to track you down. Hopefully you've already received my first message that I left for you in Avenger's Tower. If not, you're losing your touch. As fair warning, expect the third degree when next we meet. I'm still incredibly angry with you and if you pull anything this stupid again, you'll get no second chances. We both know how talented I am at making the pain I inflict last, so I suggest you don't incur my wrath to begin with."

"She's so hot," whispered Jubilee.

"Hey," said Flint as he looked away from the screen with a frown. "That's my best friend you're talking about. She's off limits and if she ever heard you say anything remotely like that, she'd kill you. Slowly and painfully."

"Maybe," conceded Jubes with a slightly wistful look, "but hell, what a way to go."

The ex-Avenger rolled his eyes and wasn't particularly surprised by the woman's comment. "Whatever. I'll send flowers to your funeral."

"And I'll make a moving YouTube tribute and post it on your behalf," added JARVIS.

"Thanks guys," snorted Jubes with a smile.

"Are you ready to continue?" asked the AI.

"Wait, wait, wait," said the firecracker with wide eyes. "You paused the vid for us? That's so cool!"

"Naturally," agreed JARVIS. "I am the smartest artificial intelligence on the planet after all."

"Sweet!" chirped Jubilee.

"Hit it, JARV," ordered Flint with a smile. He just knew that the other two would get on like a house on fire.

The Black Widow's video immediately resumed but her face fell into a mask of pain. "Pete's left me and I should really hate him but I just miss him so damn much. Our favourite tavern seems so desolate now despite how full it gets. I'd corner him by the pool table and kiss him senseless all the time, remember? Instead, now I just drink my vodka alone like the miserable shrew I am in our old booth."

Jubilee made a pained sound at the admission but the Black Widow's message continued unhindered.

"Tuesday was when he told me it was all over. Later that night I think I finally could understood the harrowing pain you must have felt when Phil left you. We're at the same stage of grief and instead of sharing our agony together, you aren't fucking here, are you? Huh, if only all the men who've screwed us over could just be forgotten. I won't let this be the end for me though and I refuse to let you suffer a similar fate. Please forgive me, Clint. I should have been there for you. To watch those stupid comedy shows you like so much and to drink you under the table. If you let me back in, I swear not to let you down again. Just, please, come back home."

The Black Widow gave the camera one last, mournful look before the feed cut out.

Flint looked at Jubilee and noticed the slight tears in her eyes and couldn't help himself. He started laughing. Hard. His amusement managed to cover the flash of pain he felt at hearing Phil's name. "Please tell me you didn't actually buy that crap, Jubes," he chortled.

"W-what?" the woman hiccupped, looking deeply affronted. "She's obviously broken up about that Pete asshole. Don't be so horrid, Flinty."

"She couldn't be torn up about a Pete when she's never dated one," explained the ex-Avenger.

"Then what the hell was she babbling about?" demanded the firecracker with a stormy look on her face.

"It was a coded message, just in case the USB fell into the wrong hands. It's happened to us a couple of times over the years," said Flint with a soft smile. "So we devised a simple set of encryption rules to keep our true messages secret."

"Oh," said Jubes hollowly. She stared absently at the computer before looking back at Flint. "Well explain it to me already!" she haughtily demanded.

"As you command, oh mistress of pyrotechnics," said Flint with a mock bow and a fluttering of his eyelashes. He earned himself a solid thump on his shoulder and a mischievous smile. "JARV, can you show me the text of what Tasha said in the clip?"

"Of course," agreed the AI amiably and the words were displayed in front of the pair of X-men.

"Alright, please change it to one sentence per line," ordered Flint and JARVIS altered the text accordingly. "There are instructions here, hidden in the words. The most important ones are begin or start and end or finish. Make 'em red for me, J." As requested, the words **begin** and **end** suitably changed. "So the actual code is in the full sentences between them."

Jubilee tilted her head as she looked at the screen. "Okay, I'm still lost. How do you read it, then?"

"The key is in the words beforehand. _Hopefully you've already received my __**first**__ message... expect the __**third **__degree... no __**second**__ chances... making the pain I inflict __**last**_. JARVIS, can you magnify the eight code sentences and when I tap a word, bold it for me?"

Flint pressed on the appropriate words as he reread the ordinals.

"First." _**Pete's**__ left me and I should really hate him but I just miss him so damn much._

"Third." _Our favourite __**tavern**__ seems so desolate now despite how full it gets._

"Second." _I'd __**corner**__ him by the pool table and kiss him senseless all the time._

"Last." _Instead, now I just drink my vodka alone like the miserable shrew I am in our old __**booth**__._

"First." _**Tuesday**__ was when he told me it was all over._

"Third." _Later that __**night**__ I think I finally could understood the harrowing pain you must have felt when Phil left you._

"Second." _We're __**at**__ the same stage of grief and instead of sharing our agony together, you aren't fucking here, are you Clint?_

"Last." _Huh, if only all the men who've screwed us over could just be __**forgotten**__._

"Alright, colour me impressed," conceded Jubilee. "Pete's Tavern, corner booth. Tuesday night at forgotten?" she ended with confusion.

Flint smirked. "Well, technically the final word in the last stanza is the last part of forgotten - ten. Tuesday night at ten."

"So instead of begging you to come home, she was actually asking you to meet her at a bar instead?" checked Jubes.

"Exactly," agreed Flint. "And no, you can't come," he said pre-emptively before the inevitable question itself was asked.

"Why not!" yelled the firecracker while she petulantly folded her arms. It made her look like a small child.

Flint couldn't help but roll his eyes. "She one of the world's best assassins. If she even caught a whiff of someone else trying to listen in to our conversation, invited or otherwise, she'd be out of there before you could even walk across the room and I'd miss the only chance I'll get to talk to her. Sorry but that's not going to happen."

"Fine," Jubes muttered but her expression almost instantly brightened. "O M Effing G man, Peter's gonna freak when he finds out that you're an Avenger."

"Ex-Avenger," Flint clarified with a sheepish look, "and he can't know. Not yet."

Narrowing her eyebrows, the firecracker demanded to know why.

"Think about it, Jubes. Have you met Nick Fury before?" the man asked. At the shake of her head, he began to spell out exactly how anal the superspy was about his assets. "If he heard even a hint of my whereabouts, he'd be at the X-mansion in minutes with an entire army right behind him. Why do you think a lowly human like me is hiding with a horde of mutants in the first place? It's the one place he'd never think look."

Jubilee pondered his words for a moment while Flint had JARVIS erase the USB. He'd committed Tasha's message to his memory and the best kind of evidence for a SHIELD fugitive to possess was none at all. He also thought he might make use of the particle incinerator in the basement to get rid of the thumb drive itself. He wished he'd had access to one years ago.

Just as Flint rolled himself off the bed, Jubes said, "I still can't believe that you're an Avenger. It seems so unreal. Like sure, they've been on TV a lot but I mean, I never thought about them in a real person sort of sense or considered that I might call one of them my friend." She looked up at the guy she was talking about.

Getting an idea, the newest X-man moved to his desk and extracted the Avenger team photo that he kept in the top drawer. He passed it over without a word.

Jubilee scanned the image and couldn't help but sigh, "Wow." She tilted her head at the pic. "Does she ever smile?"

Flint couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course, despite the fact that he'd just shown her the most important people in his life, she was once again focussed on the Black Widow. It hurt a little actually. It seemed that his whole life, he'd been passed over for others. His brother Barney had abandoned him (and the circus) for a life in the army, then on a few SHIELD missions he'd been left for dead and although he managed to return each time, no one ever seemed to care that he was still alive. Then just as he'd finally found a family that he really loved, Coulson dropped him without warning for someone else he'd considered a good friend. Why did it still hurt so damn much?

"...nt, Flint?" Flint heard in the periphery of his senses. "OI!" yelled Jubilee, causing the lost in thought ex-Avenger to start in surprise. "Well, look who's in back in the land of the living!"

"W-what?" asked Flint in surprise. He blinked a couple of times and focussed on the somewhat pissed off firecracker. She didn't take kindly to being ignored.

Jubes sighed. "You got lost somewhere in your mind, Flick-Flick. I asked you about the Black Widow and whether she actually smiles and you spaced something chronic. What's up with that?"

"Oh. It's nothing," muttered Flint as he reclaimed the photograph from his friend. "She does, you know. Smile, I mean. Just not very often. She's gone through a lot of shit; way more than anyone else I know (which is truly saying something) and if that had happened to me, I don't think I would've survived the experience." He looked down at the team he held in his hands. Although she wasn't smiling, he could see Tasha was relieved the team had won the day against the invasion.

The ex-Avenger gently replaced the photo back into the desk drawer when he spotted the other one. Natasha would kill him if she found out he'd shown it to anyone else (which she invariably would) but in the end, he felt almost compelled to pass it over. For some reason, he felt that if anyone could keep this to themselves, it was Jubilee. Which made no sense since the woman was well-known for being rather indiscrete.

Flint picked up the Vladivostok selfie where he and Tasha were drunkenly smiling and laughing and said, "If you ever tell a soul that you've seen this, the Black Widow will kill you." It wasn't a threat or a promise, it was simply the truth.

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Jubilee stoically nodded before accepting the picture. She looked at the photo expressionlessly for a few moments and then upward at the ex-Avenger. Placing the picture back in his hand, she said, "I've not seen you look this happy yet. Whatever went down with your team must have hurt like bloody hell. Sure, the X-men have had many a domestic but very rarely has someone left like you did and in most of those cases, it was completely justified. I just have to know though, did Black Widow have anything to do with your pain?"

Flint shook his head in the negative. "No. Quite the opposite, actually. She was away on a mission at the time and would have been the only one to care."

"Good. I wouldn't let you meet up with her if she'd hurt you."

"You wouldn't let me?" Flint echoed incredulously. "Really? I'm a trained assassin. Mutant powers or not, if I want to do something, no one can stop me. Well, except the Black Widow of course."

"Just... be careful on Tuesday," said Jubes with a pleading look. "I'm a loud, obnoxious bitch and although I may seem like a cheerful, friendly kinda girl most of the time, I'm not really. It takes a lot for me to feel comfortable with someone and to consider them a real friend. For some reason, you're different. I've never clicked like this with anyone before, not even Petey and he's been my bestie for a while now. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I'll be fine," Flint promised as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He wished he was being truthful but in all honesty, it wouldn't surprise him if his best friend tried to kill him again. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

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><p><strong>AN<strong> - Holy hell, as much as I love Jubilee, writing her is a pain in my ass! This would have been finished four days ago if it weren't for her. I just hope she's up to scratch. Thanks followers, favouriters and reviewers. You guys rock! Also - a cookie for **PtitBlond **for guessing about Widow passing a message on to Flint. That's been in my plan since day one.


	16. An Alaskan X-pedition

**AN** - Well lookie here. A new chapter completed way ahead of schedule. As always, thanks to Revs, Follows and Faves. ;-)

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><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Sixteen - An Alaskan X-pedition_

Flint, Jubilee and JARVIS spent another hour discussing random topics of a much lighter variety. By the end of their time together, Flint had shown off his unerring aim by flicking a few discs at almost impossible targets, Jubes divulged that her dream job was to own a mall of her own so she could chase the security guards to repay them for 'all the fun times' and JARV was hailed a God after he played a montage of edited footage from Avenger's Tower, showing a collection epic stacks. It included Thor tripping over Mjölnir, Tony backpedalling and falling on Dummy, Bruce accidentally walking into a lab bench and when he automatically hulked out, the Hulk managed to trip over the very same counter. JARVIS even managed to capture Natasha slightly stumbling causing Flint to once again propose marriage to the artificial intelligence. He'd never seen Tasha trip before and doubted he ever would again.

In complete contrast to the day before, Flint enjoyed a quiet Friday morning where he bummed around and enjoyed the tranquillity of the X-mansion during class time. Lunch proved to be the opposite and was interrupted as Xavier wheeled into the room.

_Your attention please_ boomed Xavier's psychic voice throughout the room. Everyone turned to look at the professor. Summers was standing slightly behind the man and although Flint couldn't be totally sure (due to the idiot's specialised eyewear) it felt like the mutant was balefully staring right at him.

It was the younger (and more annoying) of the two that spoke. "We have a situation that requires immediate action. Classes for this afternoon are cancelled and I need all available X-men, junior and senior, to report to the War Room immediately. That is all," said Summers before striding purposefully from the room.

The X-men of varying ages stood up and quickly followed the leader. Flint wasn't sure if he was supposed to join them so he asked Xavier. The bald mutant informed him that yes, he was included and remained in the cafeteria to supervise the younger students as the ex-Avenger moved to the elevator. When he reached the designated room, the chairs were all occupied so he stood toward the back next to Kurt. The blue mutant gave him an encouraging wink which he returned with a smile.

The War Room looked much like a regular conference room. The only major difference was the large holographic display in the centre of the table which Flint doubted would be found in your run of the mill boardroom. At this point in time, it was projecting the globe in light blue with three red, glowing dots spaced around it.

"Alright," said Scott unnecessarily since everyone crowded into the room were already quiet, "we need three teams for this mission. According to the roster, that means the Hearts team will stay behind to protect the mansion. If you're a Heart, you're dismissed. Head upstairs now."

Six of the gathered mutants, including Jubilee and Wolverine, left the room. Nightcrawler leant over and whispered in Flint's ear, "Zere are _vier_ (_four_) teams; Clubs, Diamonds, Spades und Hearts. Ve rotate shifts as to who stays und protects _die kinder _(_the children_). Experience has taught us zat ze remaining team should be excluded from ze briefing, ozerwise it can cause trouble."

"What do you mean?" asked an interested Flint quietly.

"Before ze rule came into effect," said Nightcrawler, "Wolverine vas supposed to protect ze mansion but instead ran off after _Herr_ (_Mr_) Sinister himself. Zankfully, Karma und ze ozers managed to fend off a Brotherhood assault on zeir own but zis could have been easily avoided. So ve began to compartmentalise our mission briefings und have had no more of zose problems."

"Fair enough," agreed Flint in return. It was similar to how SHIELD operated. No one with the exception of the Director knew all the details of every mission. Thus sticky situations could be easily avoided.

"FLICKER," yelled Cyclops almost wearily, as if he'd already said it several times in a row.

"Sorry, what?" asked Flint with a puzzled glance, noticing that the majority of the mutants were watching him with varying levels of amusement or in Scott's case a distinct lack thereof.

"_Meine_ (_My_) apologies, Herr Summers," soothed Kurt with a slight nod of his head before the goggled mutant could turn his rage at being ignored upon the newest X-man, "I vas just explaining how our team system vorks to our newest _mitkämpfer_ (_teammate_)."

Summers' jaw tightened slightly but he made no comment in response. Instead, he let Flint know that to even the teams up, he'd been place in the Spades group.

Flint nodded to show his understanding and when Scott's attention moved on, the blue mutant continued his hushed explanation. "Each group is made up of an assortment of powers zat have been shared evenly between zem all. For missions zat only require _eine_ (_one_) squad, ve separate ourselves into Red or Black, depending on ze colour of our suit. So in your case, you'll also be in ze Black team."

"Okay," noted Flint as he stored the information away in his head.

"Oh," added Nightcrawler, "in ze past ve noticed zat couples behaved erratically on ze field togezer so we've also taken great pains to ensure zat zey're all separated."

Flint nodded with understanding. It was also a common practice within SHIELD and was another reason why sleeping with Coulson was not the greatest of his ideas. If he'd just followed regulations like everyone else, he wouldn't have had his heart broken in the first place. He shook his head a little and refocussed his attention back onto Cyclops.

"...three different locations in teams of three. We need to track them down and discover their intentions," droned Summers as Flint absently wondered how the others had managed to stay awake this long; he'd only just tuned in and was already far beyond bored. What a wanker. "Cerebro revealed who was at each location except for two unknowns, so we're assuming that they are Mystique and Magneto himself, as their minds are hidden from telepaths. Thus I'm sending the two teams with the strongest telepaths to those two locations."

Flint saw Monet's face darken across the room and assumed she must have fallen short of the requirement.

"Clubs will be heading to Townsville, Australia to take on Pyro, Spyke and one of the unknowns," continued the X-man. "The second unknown, Arclight and Quill will be handled by the Diamonds in Urumchi, China. This leaves the Spades to stop Callisto, Multiple Man and Juggernaut at Point Hope in Alaska. Time is of the essence, so go. Now."

Flint was just happy that it would be a short ride on Blackbird III, as opposed to the other two teams who had much further to travel from Westchester. Apparently Xavier has six identical RS-170 Blackbirds sitting in a vast hanger located under the basketball courts. He was quickly strapped into a seat and flying through the skies at an incredible velocity. It's speed matched the faster SHIELD jets he'd flown in.

Storm handed the jet's controls over to Chamber (the Spades' second in command) soon after take-off so she could address the team. "Alright. As Cyclops said earlier, our first port of call is reconnaissance. We need to discover what Callisto, Multiple Man and Spyke are doing in Point Hope. Cerebro has pinpointed their location within a two block radius of an industrial sector. We'll set down a little further out and use the jet as a base. Shadowcat and Flicker - as the two of us with the most stealth experience, I want you two to infiltrate the nearby buildings and locate the mutants. M will keep the team in telepathic contact from the jet. When we discover the purpose of the team, we'll make further plans accordingly."

"Y'all have stealth experience, Flickah?" asked Rogue with interest from her seat.

Flint just nodded his head in answer with a wry smile.

_We're a couple o' minutes out_ said Chamber's psychic voice, startling Flint in the process.

"Yeah," snickered Kitty sarcastically, "you're totally unflappable and completely ready for this mission."

"Hey," protested Flint, "I didn't know he could speak psychically."

_Well since I don't have a set of lungs, a voice box or even a fuckin' mouth, how else d'ya think I can communicate, mate?_ asked the surly sounding, English accented mutant.

M cut into the conversation to allay his fears. "Don't worry, Flint. He's not telepathic like Jean or myself, he just projects his thoughts to speak."

"Why would that matter?" asked Kitty with confusion.

"My mind was once enslaved by Loki," Flint replied, "so I don't really like telepaths."

"WHAT!" yelled the combined voices of Rogue and Kitty.

Flint just shrugged in response. It was blunt but true.

"That reminds me," said Ororo as she snapped her fingers. "If we do have to fight the Brotherhood, I want you to stay out of sight, Flicker."

This time it was Flint's turn to yell out, "WHAT? Why?" Didn't she think he could handle a battle against mutants because he's a mere human? She didn't seem to have a problem with him during those Danger Room missions a couple of days ago.

The African woman turned to pin the ex-Avenger with a level stare. "This has nothing to do with your capabilities and everything to do with your DNA. I have a special task for you. I need you to stay out of sight so you can take out Callisto, if necessary."

"What do you mean?" asked Flint with obvious confusion. He noticed Rogue and Kitty looking on with similarly perplexed expressions but M's eyes widened in understanding.

"Of course!" agreed the French mutant, "Callisto has enhanced senses, superspeed but also the ability to sense nearby mutants and discern their powers..."

"...which means that she won't see me coming," finished Flint with understanding. He sighed with relief. For some reason, he felt like he needed to prove himself to his new team.

_We're here_ interjected Chamber as he smoothly set the jet down.

"M, link us up," ordered Storm.

_Done_ came the French mutant's almost instantaneous reply.

Shadowcat immediately phased through her chair and out the bottom of the jet. "Show off," muttered the ex-Avenger to himself as he stealthily descended Blackbird III's ramp. His sharp eyes just caught sight of Shadowcat walking through a building to his left so he figured he'd head towards the right. Up above, he spotted several identical men patrolling the nearby rooftops. They must be clones of the infamous Multiple Man. When the dupes were facing away from him, he quickly scaled half a building before slipping effortlessly into an open window.

Flint quickly made his way to the other side of the floor after noticing where the majority of the clones were stationed. He knew that the major players would be found where the greatest concentration of dupes were posted. Avoiding detection, he sneaked into the next building and on his way in, he noticed that this one had a hole at the base of it, indicating that Juggernaut must have rammed his way through. It had to be the right building.

In almost no time at all, Flint managed to hit the jackpot. The hallway he was in came out onto a balcony that overlooked his prey by several floors.

Callisto was sitting at a computer, rapidly typing away. She appeared to be searching through a database for some reason but unfortunately, the back of her head was in the way of the screen. Juggernaut was standing nearby looking entirely bored while Multiple Man was sitting nonchalantly on a table. However Flint detected that he was straining his neck muscles and realised that the mutant was only pretending to be relaxed. The Spades team member figured the duplicitous mutant was probably taut in an effort to maintain control over the numerous copies of himself that were running around the complex. _I've found them_ Flint thought to M in the direction of the jet.

_What are they doing?_ asked Storm over the link.

_Callisto's searching a database but I can't see what exactly for. The others are standing by._ Flint watched on as the former mutant in question cheered. _Wait a moment, Callisto must have found whatever she was looking for_.

"I've found what we're looking for," the Omega gang leader smugly said.

"Finally," muttered Juggernaut loudly to himself. "So can I smash it now? I need to punch something already."

"Sure," agreed Callisto, "but don't waste too much of your strength, some of those X-men are here."

_She knows we're here and is readying them for combat_ noted Flint dutifully.

"The X-freaks are here? YES!" yelled the overly-muscled man with obvious excitement.

"I can sense the weather witch, the leech girl, a man who's filled with psionic flame and a woman who's stronger than all the rest of them combined," noted the female mutant. "Oh," she added with a meaningful look at Cain. "Your ghostly girlfriend from Alcatraz is sniffing in the wrong direction. The stupid punks must have thought I wouldn't sense them if they only sent in one mutant."

Flint psychically reported _As expected, Callisto's sensed everyone but me. Do you want me to take her out now? It might be our only chance to do so if she's as powerful as you say._

There was a brief pause before Storm said _Do it_.

Flint readied five full-strength anaesthetic discs and hurled them spectacularly at the back of the woman's head. Just as he'd anticipated, after the first hit her, due to her super speed she instantly turned, causing her to take the rest right in the face. Despite the woman's overwhelming powers, she was out like a busted light bulb.

_Callisto's down_ Flint reported.

Juggernaut stared stupidly at the downed mutant for a few moments before scooping her up into his arms. "We gotta get out of here," he yelled at his companion.

Multiple Man was still looking around. "How the fuck did that happen? I've got the whole place mapped out." Flint managed to contain a snort of incredulity. What kind of idiot didn't have men stationed on conveniently placed overlooking balconies?

"Who cares?" roared Juggernaut. "She deleted 'em from the database so the boss is in the clear. We gotta split. NOW!" Without waiting for a reply, Juggernaut ran out of the room and moments later, Multiple Man followed.

_They're on the move and headed east. I'm going to check the computer console they were using for any further information._

_Roger_ agreed Storm and as Flint descended a few floors to the computer, he could hear the sound of thunder and explosions coming from outside. He smirked as he sat in the chair Callisto had recently fallen out of. The computer displayed a vast database of mutants, their current whereabouts, known family and the powers they possessed. The logo in the corner of the screen indicated the warehouse was originally a secret HAMMER facility devoted to the study of mutations.

Flint growled with annoyance after he unconsciously reached behind his shoulder to grab one of his tech arrows which obviously wasn't there; an arrow with a USB at the end of it. On the rare occasions where he'd been caught, no one ever thought to search his quiver for intel. The majority of his captors were smart enough to realise that a good majority of his arrows were explosive and could go off at any moment. It was excellent camouflage.

Just as he was about to leave his seat in disgust, Flint had a moment of inspiration. He'd been meaning to dispose of Natasha's flash drive in the particle incinerator that afternoon but due to the lunchtime interruption, he'd safely stowed it in his pocket. He quickly fished it out and began to copy what was left of the entire database. Once again, he owed his existence to his best friend.

_I'm copying the database that they altered. Hopefully it'll give us a clue as to their intentions _Flint psychically sent to the team. _It'll be done in a two and a half minutes._

There was no answer to the newest X-man's update so he assumed that the team were preoccupied with the Brotherhood mutants. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he waited. When there were fifty-two seconds to go, Shadowcat's voice gave him a warning. _Heads up, Flicker. Juggernaut's running back into the building. M's trying to slow him down but he's called unstoppable for a reason. Get out of there._

_I can't. There's still forty-six seconds to go before the file transfer's complete_ Flint argued as the floor started to shake. Juggernaut must be close. Too close but he wasn't about to abort his task yet. He quickly threw out several strong ice discs onto the floor and a couple of smokescreen ones too.

Due to the darkness, Flint couldn't see Juggernaut ramming his way back into the room but he did hear some choice curses which was quickly followed by a very loud thud causing the room to shake again. He heard a soft bleep and realised the transfer was complete. After reclaiming the USB, he got the hell away from the computer. Mere seconds later, there was a huge crashing sound and he assumed that the muscly mutant just destroyed the CPU and would have pulverised him too if he'd been there.

Flint managed to vault upward and pull himself onto the first level balcony. From there, he ran to the other end of the building, far away from the rampaging brick of a man and contacted the team. _I have the data. Orders?_

Storm sent him back to the jet, along with everyone else for a quick take off.

When they were airborne, after kicking out a couple of dupes that had stolen aboard, Flint finally let himself relax. It was a nice way to wean himself back into field work again. He hadn't really needed to engage the enemy and every time he could get away clean, so much the better.

As they were the first team to return from their mission, the Spades took the time to refresh themselves with showers and a change of uniform. Within half an hour, the three teams reassembled in the war room. The only missing X-men were the Hearts team, Mercury, Siryn, Phoenix and Colossus, who were recovering in the med lab. Mercury and Siryn were both moderately burned by Pyro. Due to her metallic form, Cessily Kincaid wasn't really harmed but she wasn't able to retain her shape for very long and relaxed as a puddle of silverish goop in a bucket to the side. If she was rapidly cooled after bring super-heated, she'd harden which would take much longer for the woman to recover from.

Unfortunately, out of all of them, Peter was the worst off. There wasn't much the man could do when faced with Magneto. He remained vulnerable in his human form but shifting to organic metal just gave the electromagnetic mutant complete control over his body. Quill had sent his venomous spikes into the Russian's unguarded back and to save himself from dying of poison, he was forced into his metallic form. He then spent the majority of the battle being thrown around the battlefield like a great big silvery wrecking ball. Jean was currently manufacturing an antidote while telekinetically removing the numerous spines, so she wouldn't fall victim to the poison herself.

Despite wanting to wait near Peter's side (even though he really didn't know the man that well) Flint instead listened to Summers droning on again in the war room. At least this time, due to his team's early arrival, he got to snag a seat.

"Mystique was accessing the Australian government's classified mutant files at a secret base in Townsville," waffled Cyclops expressionlessly. "Pyro and Spyke were able to keep us at bay long enough to cover their activities."

"The Diamonds," reported the second in command Angel as Jean was working in the med lab, "recovered no relevant information. Magneto had already wiped the computer consoles clean with an electromagnetic pulse before we arrived." The blond seemed rather disheartened about his team's lack of success and his wings drooped sadly behind him.

"We were able to recover some information," said Ororo and a flutter of murmurs ran around the room. Flint had to actively restrain himself from smirking at Summers.

_You're going to have to try harder than that_ whispered Monet psychically into his mind.

Flint couldn't be bothered trying any harder and shrugged minutely at the French mutant who rolled her eyes and smirked simultaneously.

"Flint?" the weather witch prompted, causing the man to blink at her for a moment before he stood up and moved to stand by her side. It wasn't often that he needed to speak in front of so many people and it was a little unsettling. He drew on his time spent in the circus to calm his nerves.

"We managed to infiltrate the once HAMMER facility and catch Callisto in the act of accessing the database. It appears to be a list of known mutants and other data the compilers found relevant. What was strange was that the Brotherhood deleted a few files and nothing else. They mustn't want anyone to know about those individuals. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see the specific records myself..."

There was a swell of curses, sighs and muttered comments around the room but Flint ignored them and continued. "...but I was able to copy the remaining files before Juggernaut managed to destroy the computers." He handed the USB to a surly Cyclops and went to sit down.

The X-men poured over the extensive files but couldn't immediately spot anything that was obviously missing. In fact, the only point of interest was that Magneto, Mystique and the others' records were still on file. Flint wondered what they were up to and who they were protecting.

"Wait!" the ex-Avenger yelled with excitement before realising that he might have been a tad too loud. Everyone was looking at him. He could feel his face redden slightly but said, "I just remembered, Juggernaut said something to Multiple Man after Callisto was downed. He said 'she deleted 'em from the database so the boss is in the clear'. Whatever this was all about was related directly to Magneto himself in some way. I know it's not a lot to go on but it's something, right?"

"It is but the whole thing seems ridiculously sketchy to me," conceded Psylocke in a soft voice to the side. It was the first time Flint had ever heard her speak and was surprised at the cultured British accent coming from the woman with distinctly Asian features. He assumed there was a story to be found there but decided to worry about that another time.

"What would make sense," said Xavier who had been sitting almost unnoticed in the corner, "is if we could compare this incomplete database to one that is intact."

There was a silence around the room as the mutants (and one fake mutant) considered the words.

"That's probably why there were three strike teams at once," grunted Wolverine.

"Most likely," agreed Xavier.

"Where could we find a full database?" asked Bobby with a confused look.

"The US government would have one. We should get Hank to look into it," thought Ororo aloud.

"Fury's bound to have one too but I can't see him sharing classified shit with us lowly mutants," griped Wolverine. Flint felt his heart constrict for a moment at the mention of the superspy and then internally berated himself for being so damn irrational.

A few other ideas were passed around including searching abandoned HYDRA bases, meeting the British Secret Service and for desperation's sake, even contacting the New York Police Department was mentioned, albeit as a joke.

Charles Xavier quietened the gathering and said, "Take a couple of days to consider the information. If you come up any other leads, just let me know. You've all done an excellent job today so make sure you get some well-earned rest."

The mutants began to clear out of the room in small groups but Flint stuck his head into the med lab. Siryn was holding a soft conversation with the bucket that Flint assumed Cessily was resting in. Either that or the girl might have sustained a head injury and was delusional instead. He padded over to the cot that housed Peter. The man was no longer in his metallic form and Jean was looking over the monitor by his side.

"He's ingested the antitoxin and will recover quickly," Jean informed him, "but I've given him a light sedative to allow him to rest."

"Okay," nodded the ex-Avenger absently but his attention was riveted on the sleeping Russian. He sat by the bed and after shiftily looking around the room, he gently laid his hand upon Peter's and let his mind ruminate over who else might have a list of known mutants and their powers.

After a few minutes, Flint jerked his hand away and sprang to his feet as a thought came to mind. Really, it was blindingly obvious and he almost physically smacked himself in the forehead for not thinking of him sooner. He did know someone obnoxiously nosy who had no qualms using his vast resources to make such a gathering of intelligence.

Tony Stark.


	17. Alternatives to X-plore

**A to X**

_Chapter Seventeen - Alternatives to X-plore_

Giving himself the afternoon to think about it, Flint decided that his first port of call was to check his hunch about Tony with JARVIS. Although the AI didn't confirm his suspicions outright, he strongly hinted that Stark hacked SHIELD with unrestricted access on a regular basis and that Fury's database of superhuman individuals was more than likely to pique the philanthropist's interest. So with his intuition practically confirmed, Flint spent that night considering his options while he lay in bed.

Option one. He could simply tell Xavier and add Tony Stark to the list of potential candidates for the X-men to investigate. That way he still contributed to solving the puzzle of the Brotherhood of Mutant's mysterious activities without needing to personally involve himself. Of course, if he did so, it was highly likely that Xavier would turn to the ex-Avenger for help infiltrating his previous residence; a reasonable request. One which he'd happily agree to but in the process, his connection to Tony, the Avengers and SHIELD would become common knowledge. Thus Fury would probably be at the mansion with his flunkies in tow faster than a runaway Juggernaut.

The second option involved using JARVIS to contact Tony himself and trying to charm the info out of him. While it kept his involvement with the Avengers from the X-men, Tony would either be pissy that Flint had run away or he'd help out while using his formidable tech to trace his ex-teammate's whereabouts. No doubt Tony would either let it slip to SHIELD or (and much more likely) randomly show up at the X-mansion itself for a look-see, blowing Flint's cover out of the water resulting in Fury dragging him away again.

Option number three was the simplest to pull off. He could sneak into Avenger's Tower on his own and take the information himself. Let's face it, he knew the inner workings of the Tower like the back of his hand. As long as JARVIS knew that he had no intention of harming Tony, Pepper, the Avengers or the civilians, he doubted the AI would give him away. His only real concern was that if he failed, there would be nothing in the way of back-up. The last thing he wanted was to sit through a 'conversation' (interrogation) with Coulson as to why he'd run away in the first place. That's so not happening.

After mulling over the situation for a couple of hours while reclining on his bed, Flint finally decided to enact his fourth option - asking a few of his new friends who were aware of his double life to help him to break into the formidably protected skyscraper. Decision made, the archer swiftly fell sound asleep.

Flint woke up early and refreshed on Saturday morning. After assaulting a delicious plateful of bacon and eggs, he retired back to his room. He began his preparations by making a list of people who knew of his two lives, past and present. It was a short list and yet, much longer than he would have preferred.

**X-men**

Charles Xavier, powerful telepath and leader of the X-men.

Jean Grey, telepathic and telekinetic extraordinaire.

Forge, who's better at tech than everyone, even Tony.

Hank McCoy, the furry blue genius.

Storm, mistress of the elements.

Monet, a complete powerhouse.

Megan, teleportation and hallucinogenic wings - could she be any more awesome?

Jubilee, the fourth of July with an attitude.

**Avengers**

JARVIS, Tony's kick ass software that's snarkier than he is.

Natasha, the world's best espionage agent.

After mulling over the Avengers Tower specs that were handily provided by JARVIS, Flint made the beginnings of a plan. In fact, the AI had pledged his willingness to help with the caper to the best of his ability. It would certainly be a great boon to have the building itself on his side.

Flicker had no intention of letting Xavier know about his idea, psychically or otherwise. Jean, Ororo and Hank were already known to the Avengers so any chance at infiltration wouldn't pan out if they were involved. He wasn't sure what Forge would be like in the field or if he'd even help out in the first place, which left him with Monet, Megan and Jubilee as his preferred choices for back-up.

After hours of detailing many different approaches, Flint finally settled on the plan that he felt held the best chance of success. Now he just had to track down those he wanted to involve and sweet talk them into it.

Megan and Monet both agreed to help him out when the ex-Avenger found them watching the latest Arrow episode in the rec room. M only assented to help after he let her know that she'd not only get to cause a fair amount of property damage but might also get to test her strength against some of the Avengers themselves. He then had to assure Pixie that she would be doing the exact opposite; causing no destruction at all. Megan was the one who then told him that Jubilee was hanging out with Peter in his room.

Despite knowing that they were merely best friends, Flint felt a small and unreasonable flash of jealousy in his chest. He shook the feeling off and knocked soundly on the door, which was flung open by the very woman he wanted to see.

"Hey Biceps!" she chirped, before dragging him bodily into the room.

"Hi," he belatedly replied after he was practically thrown onto the bed. "Where's Peter?" he asked after a brief scan of the room.

"Oh, I sent him to the kitchen for some ice-cream," the firecracker said with an unrepentant shrug at his raised eyebrows. "Hold that thought," she said as she held an index finger up before scrunching her eyes closed. "Great!" she chirped after a few moments. "Monet just told Peter to bring an extra tub and spoon back for you."

Flint couldn't help but smile. Trust Jubes to boss a telepath into relaying such a trivial message for her. He wiped the grin off his face, knowing that now was his best chance to talk candidly with his target. He seriously said, "Jubes, I need your help."

"Sure thing but mysterious much?" she agreed with a bemused look. "What with?"

Flint glanced shiftily around the small room before lowly saying, "I'm breaking into Avenger's Tower and want..."

"YOU'RE WHAT!" Jubes yelled over the top of him. She stared at him intently, as if trying to spot a joke of some kind but quickly realised that he was one hundred percent serious. "I mean, I'm still totally gonna do it but why?"

"To break into Tony's extensive database. You know, for the mission," Flint explained, "but you can't tell anyone. Not even Peter."

Jubilee gave him a withering look but agreed to his condition. "Fine. When's this gonna go down Freddie Flintstone?"

"Wednesday," answered the ex-Avenger promptly. "Between the four of us, we have a small window of opportunity from three to five when classes are over and none of us are due for a Danger Room session."

"Us?" asked the mallrat with a raised eyebrow but before anything else could be said, the door was flung open and Peter walked in with three quarts of ice-cream held firmly against his chest.

Flint's mouth suddenly went dry and he wasn't sure if it was from seeing the delicious ice-cream or the delectable man. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? "Hey," he said cheerfully while internally berating himself. _Hey? That's the best you could come up with? Seriously?_

"_Привет_ (_Hello_) _Красавец_," greeted the Russian, causing another tremor of delight to pass through Flint's system. He definitely liked being called handsome by the man. "I have brought the Pink Bubblegum flavour for the lady, just as you requested, _моя __королева_ (_my queen_)," he said with an exaggerated bow and flourish.

Jubes thanked the man as she snatched the Baskin-Robbins tub up greedily and without waiting for anyone else, began to hoe in.

"You choose," offered Peter, who held up the two remaining quarts in clear view. Flint ended up selecting the Peanut Butter 'n Chocolate flavour, leaving the Fudge Brownie one for Pete to consume.

The conversation was rather stilted between the three as the majority of their attention remained riveted on the ice-cream. After a while, they gave up completely on communication until the treats were fully consumed.

"Man, that hit the spot," said Jubilee with immense satisfaction before she let out a loud, unladylike belch.

"That's for sure," concurred Flint as he absently rubbed his stomach. Peter simply nodded his head in agreement. "How are you feeling? All recovered?"

The Russian smiled. "_Да_ (_Yes_). Jean removed all of those _блин_ (_damn_) poisoned spikes and now I'm fine."

_Yes, you are_ thought Flint to himself with an internal smirk. "What was it like?" he asked when he'd forced his brain to focus back in the present. "You know, fighting Magneto?"

"I hated it. There's nothing I can do but rely on my teammates," Peter said with a sigh. "Of course, there are times when the others rely on me for assistance but out of everyone I've ever fought, Magnus is the one I relish crossing paths with the least."

Flint made a mental note to introduce Magneto to his new weaponry by way of a practical demonstration. At least the plastic material would make them immune to his manipulations. His power gloves, however, would need to be a substantial distance away. That's where his uncanny aim would have to come into play.

"He's an ass," sniped Jubes snidely as she collected the empty ice-cream cartons and spoons from around the room. "I'll be right back," she said before she slipped through the doorway to dispose of the refuse.

"So, what plans do you have for the rest of today?" asked Peter with a smile.

Flint shrugged. "Nothing much. I should be planning the two classes I'm taking over next week but I really don't feel like it at the moment."

"Oh yeah," noted the Russian with a nod. "Which ones?"

"French and German," answered the ex-Avenger.

Tilting his head slightly, Peter said, "I just don't understand why you'd know those fluffy languages when you could be speaking a real tongue."

"What? Like Hawaiian?" Flint snarked good-naturedly. Of all the languages he'd learned, it was his favourite to speak. It only had fourteen letters which meant most of the words were longer in length and a lot more like tongue twisters to pronounce. Plus it was one of the very few tongues that Natasha did not know.

Peter slapped the archer's back with a smile. "I am, of course, speaking of the glorious language of _Русский _(_Russian_)."

"I don't know," said the ex-Avenger as if he were accidentally thinking aloud, "it sounds a bit harsh."

"That is because it is a man's language," defended the Russian.

Flint somehow managed to keep his snort from escaping. If Tasha had heard that line, she would have gutted the mutant. "I don't know if I'd have the patience for it."

Peter leant toward him and whispered in his ear, "I would be more than willing to give you some private tutorials if necessary."

The archer couldn't help but shudder at the words and implication. There it was. Confirmation that it wasn't all in his head. Peter did want at least something with him. He drew in a shaky breath before replying in an equally quiet murmur, "That sounds like an offer I can't refuse."

The smile the Russian offered was blinding and Flint felt one of the man's hands rest gently on his thigh. It was radiated warmth, causing him to wonder just how amazing it would feel to be held completely.

Peter took in a breath but whatever he was about to say was interrupted as the door to the room swung open and Jubes waltzed right back in. Peter yelped and leapt away from Flint as if he'd been burned before blushing a brilliant red.

Jubilee raised an eyebrow and drawled, "Ooooooookay, well that was weird."

Not trusting himself, Flint just smiled and shrugged at the woman because he knew the second he opened his mouth, he'd be roaring with laughter and the last thing he wanted was to make Peter think his advance was unwelcome or laughable.

Rolling her eyes, Jubilee added, "Whatever. Anywho, Julie-Anne was saying that they were about to chuck on the latest Batman flick in the den. I wanna watch it so we're going."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room. The two men glanced at each other with a soft smile each before following in her wake.

"How about we meet up tomorrow for your first lesson," purred Peter into Flint's ear in an effort to remain unheard by the firecracker.

"Sure," agreed Flint, knowing that keeping his deception up was going to be torturous but he just couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Flint found himself seated next to the Russian and if they sat a little closer than he would normally have done with someone else, well, oops.

Sunday morning was spent planning just what the hell he was going to do with the French class delinquents. He wasn't so worried about the German students, Kurt had given him the lesson plans he'd been using for the rest of the year and they were incredible. A monkey following that plan would succeed at teaching them. Warren's notes, however, were much the opposite. So much so that Flint decided to ditch them all and start from scratch. At least he already knew that he'd get a poor reception by actually making them work and that a couple of them were already fluent. From there he came up with a plan of attack.

After lunch, Peter knocked on his bedroom door and let himself in with a warm smile.

"_Привет_ (_Hello_)" he greeted as he moved over to the bed. He sat himself down and got comfortable next to the archer.

"Hey," returned Flint with a goofy grin as he looked up from his French notes.

Peter raised an eyebrow and said, "Not 'Hey', _привет_."

"Pre-vi-ite?" tried Flint clumsily. Really, mangling a language he'd perfected quite some time ago was more difficult than he'd originally thought. Forcing himself to mispronounce was quite challenging and at the very least added the illusion that he was tripping up over the word, just not in the way the Russian thought.

"Close but try again, _привет_," encouraged the metallic man.

They passed the greeting around as if it were a football until Peter was convinced that the archer had somewhat mastered it. They moved on to other common phrases and Flint was just happy that the X-man wasn't instructing him the same way that Tasha had. Sometimes he'd had bruises for weeks but that had more to do with his mouthy retorts than any real mangling of the language itself. There were other more pleasurable way that he'd prefer the Russian to touch him.

While they were taking a break from the lesson, Peter looked over Flint's notes for the following day, and he liked the idea of starting the class from scratch. He, like many others, had heard of the French class. It had become rather infamous. "I think that I shall work through your own lesson plans in Russian. That way, you should retain the words better as the theme will still be in your head."

Flint smiled. He hadn't actually expected the man to teach him Russian at all, he'd thought it had been code for 'let's have some fun (this beat is sic)', disco sticks and all that jazz. In all honesty, it made his liking for him increase. There was nothing sexier than a man who knew his way around a language or two and loved to share it. The fact that he'd only been encouraging was another point in his favour.

Unfortunately, Flint had mastered the names of colours a long time ago and the process started to become cumbersome. He'd had a lot of practice at patience; it was a necessary skill an assassin required but his was starting to wear a little thin. His companion began to realise this and ended their lesson.

"You're making fast progress, Flint," smiled Peter.

"Thanks, Peter. I mean, _спасиб__a_," said Flint seriously.

"_Спа__-__си__-__БО_," corrected Peter with another of his gorgeous grins.

"_Спа__-__си__-__бо_," echoed Flint. A thought then occurred to the archer. He could have smacked himself in the head for his stupidity. "So, since you're Russian and all that, your name wouldn't actually be Peter, would it?"

Tilting his head, Peter agreed. "My full name is _Петр Николаевич Распутин _(_Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin)_ but the others have trouble pronouncing it so they just use Peter instead. It's the same thing really, just a Western version."

"Pee-oh-ter?" tried Flint, feeling like an idiot for screwing it up that badly.

"Not really, it's more like Pyo-ter. The 'i' sound is very short before the 'o'."

Flint (after a few more times) pronounced it correctly and the warm glow in Peter's, no Петр's, eyes made all the effort of the unnecessary lesson completely worth it. He decided that he'd only use his real name from now onward. Especially if it got such a great response out of the man.

A silence fell between the two men as they stared at each other. Flint felt short of breath in a way that he hadn't in several years. There was just something about Петр that caused him to lower his defences in a way Coulson never had. Perhaps it had something to do with how little they actually knew about each other or maybe they were more compatible in some sort of way. Whatever it was, Flint really couldn't care less. He just knew he liked it.

While Flint's thoughts rolled around his mind, he was instantly brought back to the present by a feather-light touch to his cheek. It should have been impossible for the Russian's large, meaty hands to be that gentle. He leant in a planted a soft, chaste kiss on the archer's lips. "I have to go, _привет_, but I shall catch up with you tomorrow afternoon to see whether you survived your first French class."

The ex-Avenger snorted with mirth. "If I perish, place a nice obituary in the paper for me, yeah?"

"Of course," agreed Петр with a laugh. They stayed close to each other for a few moments longer before the Russian let himself out of the room with one of his warm smiles.

Flint couldn't help but sigh with contentment. It's the happiest he'd felt since leaving the Avengers and he was damn well going to enjoy the moment.

Monday morning appeared to be a gloomy day, which mirrored the ex-Avenger's mood. He wasn't looking forward to the French class but he was also quite sure the students in question weren't either. Jean, Ororo and even Summers himself gave him encouragement at breakfast (even though he was convinced that the latter only did so at his girlfriend's insistence) and Петр gave him a squeeze on the shoulder just before the lesson was to begin.

The students began to fill the room and despite their rowdy entrance, when they sat at their desks, they all seemed reluctant to speak while Flint was at the front of the room. It seemed that his performance the week before was well remembered. What did surprise him was the intense stare that Julian (or as Jubes liked to call him just to piss him off, Julie-Anne) was giving him. Well, he wasn't surprised at the stare but rather that it wasn't full of hate. It should be, he'd embarrassed him in front of his peers last time so something else was going on. Pushing that from his mind, he refocussed onto the job at hand.

"Alright," began Flint in the already silent room. "The savvy people in this room will have realised that one of the posters in no longer on the wall. Can anyone tell me which it was?"

The shocked looks on the student's faces quickly fled as they looked around the room. As he'd predicted to himself, none could work it out. They then turned to look at either Monet or Julian. He'd assumed that would happen too.

"It's just as I thought," noted Flint aloud for the class' benefit. When their attention was riveted back on himself, he continued. "From what I witnessed last Wednesday was a complete lack of interest in the subject and a reliance on the two people already fluent in the language to pick up your slack." He let that sink in for the moment. "I figured that no one really looked at the charts on the wall. The majority of you don't care while Monet and Julian have no need to. For your information, it was the poster about colours."

Julian opened his mouth with a deep breath, an angry look in his eyes but startled as a disc dropped onto his desk, erupting with a small amount of black smoke.

"You will wait until your input is asked for or I will find other, more creative things to throw your way. I am not Worthington and I will not be spoken to like you or your classmates did to him," chastised Flint. "And if you continue to use your phone," he said as he turned his attention to a blonde girl in the second row, "I will freeze it solid."

The girl in question squeaked and hastily put the device into her backpack.

"Here's how things are going to run in this classroom. Everyone starts on this level," Flint announced as he tacked an A4-sized blue poster on the wall near the doorway. It was labelled _'Happy Times'_.

Above that he stuck a purple poster with gold edges split into three smaller boxes called '_Today's Awesomeness'. _"Each lesson, people who impress me and are still in the Happy Times will be moved up to here. They will get a free pass out of any homework set for that lesson and will be let out three minutes early."

Murmurs rippled around the room but quickly silenced as the students realised that Flint was tacking up four new posters under the other two. The green one was '_Warning One_,' and '_Warning Two_' was yellow. This was followed by an orange '_Time Out_' and then the red one only contained the letter X.

"I'm sure," began Flint, "that you have met these sorts of things before. At your age, warnings and time out can't be new concepts to you. A show of hands, what do you think this one means?" he asked as he pointed to the red poster.

The blonde girl who had put her phone away raised her hand and after Flint nodded encouragingly her way, she said, "Professor Xavier?" in a questioning voice.

"Exactly," the ex-Avenger agreed and the girl sighed with relief. "If you do manage to get your two warnings, moved to the desk at the front of the room and are still causing the class problems, you get the distinct pleasure of sitting with Uncle Charlie and having a lengthy conversation while suffering through his disappointed glances."

There was a flutter of soft laughs and understanding nods. They'd probably all received that sort of treatment at one point or another already.

"Now I'm not going to run through the rules of this classroom. You all know right from wrong and know when you're doing something stupid. So the only things you need to know are this," noted Flint and the class' attention seemed to sharpen. "I will do my best to get this language into each and every brain in the room but ultimately, it is up to you. If you do not put in the work, you will not succeed. So it is with much sadness that I eliminate your most used form of avoidance. From now on, Julian and Monet will be banned from answering my questions."

Naturally, there was instant uproar from around the room but it was quickly silenced with a threatening glare from the archer.

The ex-Avenger went on to explain how he'd split the students into three groups and that he, Monet and Julian would be their team leader. When the students found out that the team with the best GPA for the year would get to go on a field trip to a place of their choice, he had a feeling that this was going to be a bit easier than he'd originally thought.

With his expectations and consequences outlined, the learning began.


	18. Assassins in X-ile

**A to X**

_Chapter Eighteen - Assassins in X-ile_

In the end, Flint was exceptionally pleased with how the rest of the French class went. There were a few minor incidents but nothing that could be considered a complete clusterfuck. In fact, only Julian ended up on the second warning level; everyone else was remarkably well behaved. He did know that once the shock of the change wore off, they'd probably start pushing the boundaries at every available opportunity.

Later on Петр stopped by again and worked on Flint's Russian with him. Unfortunately (in the latter's opinion) no more kisses were traded but the former did seem to blush every time he correctly pronounced _красный_ (_red_) or _розовый_ (_pink_) which was excellent incentive to 'master' those colours first. The visit did remind him of another Russian that he was to meet up with the next evening and although he was looking forward to seeing Natasha again, he still wasn't sure if she'd be sympathetic to his plight or simply punch him in the face for being a coward and scarpering while she was away on a mission.

After a scrumptious dinner, the ex-Avenger headed to Xavier's office to continue working on his psychic shields. A few solid hours of exertion later, Charles once again scared the absolute shit out of him by unexpectedly popping into existence. _Jesus, Uncle Charlie. Give a guy some warning!_ he psychically yelled as he held a hand to his heart.

The now-standing handicapped man smirked unrepentantly and airily replied, _Why on Earth would I do that when I can elicit such entertaining reactions from you?_

Flint mumbled murderously to himself for a bit but couldn't help smiling along with Xavier's infectious grin. _Whatever_ he said dismissively.

The telepath took in the circus tent around him. _You've come a very long way, Littleflint_ he noted as he examined the detail of the scene. _All five senses are well covered and will confuse at the very least, a mid-level psychic and quite possibly an experienced one._

Flint blushed a little at the praise because after years of being taken for granted or looked down upon, he was still rather shocked when congratulated. Perhaps one day he'd get used to it since the X-men seemed to do so often. _Thanks_ he choked out gruffly.

Xavier nodded before his eyes slid out of focus. When they snapped back to the present, he said _I believe it's time your shields were tested against an expert telepath who will not be quite as gentle as Jean or myself. Consider this a chance to see if they could hold up to the likes of Loki_.

The ex-Avenger couldn't help but feel panicked at the idea of a random traipsing through his head but really, how else could he test his endurance otherwise? _Okay, if you think I'm ready for it, I'll give it a go._

_Excellent_ purred a feminine voice the archer had not heard before.

Flint jumped into the air, despite the fact that he was on the astral plane and wasn't standing on solid ground to begin with. A luminous white figure glowed brilliantly and chuckled in a way that sounded neither friendly nor venomous. She approached the two men with a walk that he'd seen in many a red-light district and as soon as he thought it, he had a very bad feeling that the expert telepath had heard his not-so-internal commentary too, if the glare that instantly clouded her face was anything to go by. She then turned her attention back to the older man.

_Charles_ she cooed. _It has been far too long_. The woman who had a distinct British accent held out a hand which the man in question bussed against his lips.

_And yet you look as radiant as ever_ replied the telepath, with a small smile.

_You charmer_ chuckled the woman but her lovely demeanour slipped as soon as she focussed her attention on Flint. _And you are?_ she said coolly.

_Flint Robertson, ma'am_ the archer stuttered out.

The blonde woman tilted her head and somehow, Flint could feel a slight pressure on his mind. It immediately brought memories of Loki flooding back again and without really realising what he was doing, he mentally jabbed the place of the intrusion. Hard.

Making a small _Oh!_ of surprise, the unfamiliar woman eyed Flint with more interest than she'd shown before. _Interesting. I have a strong suspicion that you lied to me but you managed to repel my probe before I could verify or disprove my supposition. I'm Frost, by the way. Emma Frost_.

_A pleasure_ noted Flint formally, just like Natasha had taught him.

Emma just raised a pencil-line thin eyebrow and replied _We shall see_. She looked around the room with a piercing stare. _A circus? How juvenile. Well, each to their own, I suppose_. The woman fluttered her fingers and about fifteen radiant diamonds appeared in the sir around them. They then began to float almost lazily around her hands. _I intend to determine what your real name is so let's get this party started_ she said with a shark-like smile. Without warning, the diamonds dispersed at an incredible speed and began to bounce around the tent, pelting whatever was in their way.

Flint's head felt like it had been split open with a very blunt axe in multiple places but if there was one thing the ex-Avenger had built up a tolerance to over the years, it was pain. There had been many times in the field where he'd been injured behind enemy lines without medical support and it allowed him the chance to strengthen his resilience. He pushed through the pain and concentrated hard. The room around him began to react.

Children started to cry, balloons popped with loud bangs and the magician in the centre of the ring pulled several overfed doves from his hat and they raced around the room after the sparkling stones, trying to catch them with their beaks and feet. Trapdoors opened from around the stage and a multitude of clowns filled the tent, cream pies in their hands. The sweets were lobbed around the room, adding to the general chaos as the unhappy crowd began to throw their snacks at the intruding telepath. One enterprising clown (styled off Flint's favourite from his time in the circus called Alistair) pulled out a large rubber fish and began to smack Frost around the head with it.

Emma's eyes were wide as her hands deflected blows from the clowns until she flicked her fingers and a shimmery silverish shield formed around her. She looked through the mostly transparent bubble at the hysteria around her, then to Flint with a half-impressed look on her face. Flint smirked and shrugged in response. The telepath's eyes hardened and a chilly aura seemed to seep out from her shield.

Flint realised that he needed to do something and fast, it felt like his mind was going numb. Luckily, the bubble that Emma was hiding within actually sparked another memory from his time in the circus and he couldn't help but smile. This was going to be great.

Emma had turned her attention to the popcorn machine that was spewing the salty treat everywhere and was unprepared for the elephant that landed and began to balance on her shield. The cold snap and numbness dissipated immediately.

Watching from the sidelines with complete amusement, Charles couldn't help but laugh at his frenemy's misfortune. In fact, he couldn't think of a single instance where the woman was anything less than refined and here she was, bouncing around her improvised bubble as she was rolled around the tent by an elephant. To make her situation even more humiliating, the crowd that had been angry only moments before were now cheering and laughing at her while calmly resuming their seats to fully enjoy the spectacle. _Flint_ he called out _you've shown that you have control over your mind but to truly repel an intruder, you have to throw them out of your mindscape completely._

Flint nodded absently at the bald man as he tried not to split his focus. By his side, the 'midget cannon' popped into existence at his mental command. Back in Carson's, it was manned by three dwarfs; two were twins and the third, their cousin. They were one of the more popular acts and never failed to entertain the crowd.

As is was clearly designed for smaller sized people, Flint concentrated on the cannon and began to enlarge it while lowering the opening to the ground. When it had reached a much larger size, the elephant rolled Emma's bubble right into the now massive cannon, which instantly righted itself. Alastair ran over with a lit sparkler and the crowd started to count down from five.

_Five, four, three, two, ONE!_ the spectators yelled. There was an Astral plane shaking BOOM and Emma's bubble was launched right out the roof of the tent to tumultuous applause and cheering.

_Well done, Flint_ congratulated the Professor. _Meet me back in the physical world and we'll discuss your progress._ Without waiting for a response, the man popped back out of existence.

Flint rolled his eyes at the man's abrupt disappearance before he took the now somewhat familiar journey back to his body. It was weird how it no longer seemed to be weird, if that made sense. He was soon conscious and back in his own skin. After blinking a couple of times, he then focussed his attention back onto Xavier.

"Great work, Flint. That was excellent. Not only did your shields hold but you were able to sense the attacks and repel them. This is fantastic progress," the man stated sincerely.

Flint cocked his head. "What do you mean by that I could sense it?"

"Ah," said the Professor, "I want you to think back to the first time your mind was attacked by Loki."

Flint couldn't help but shudder at the memory.

"Did you feel him trying to get into your mind or was he already there?" the man asked.

The telepath's ocean blue eyes bored into Flint's but the latter could actually tell that it was nothing more than a look and not a mind-scan. He has been making progress! After smirking internally, he then thought the question over carefully before replying, "He was already in there."

Xavier nodded as if he'd merely confirmed a suspicion. "Yes, he was. Your mind was undefended and he played with it at will. Now that you have more understanding and have crafted some defences, you have become more than capable of fending off intruders, like Emma, for instance." He couldn't help but smirk at that thought, it really had been quite amusing. He'd have to show Jean later, knowing of her dislike of the White Queen. The telephone on the Professor's desk began to ring and he answered it with a cordial greeting. There was a slight pause before he said, "Yes, he's here. He's sitting right across from me."

Flint was passed the handset and he meekly said, "Er, hello?" into it.

"Flint," came the response and he recognised the voice of Emma Frost immediately. "I hate to admit it but I am grudgingly impressed. Your defences are certainly above average. Just be careful. During your brief conversation with Charles, I managed to discern that your name is actually Clint."

The ex-Avenger's heartrate shot right up and he tried to take a couple of brief breaths.

"Do not trouble yourself," the woman continued as if she hadn't just scared the absolute shit out of Flint. "That was the only real time that your concentration slipped and I didn't even get to look any further. Charles may not have told you but I am one of the strongest telepaths in the world. If you could withstand me, even for that small period of time, your defences will indeed serve you well in the future. Anyway, I have some shopping to do, so ciao." The phone line went dead and Flint wordlessly placed the handset back into its cradle.

Flint sat in the chair, dazed, for a few moments before looking up at Xavier. "She seemed to think I did well."

"You did," agreed the super-telepath. "Your focus is to be commended. You've done in a week or so what usually takes others months to complete. Of course, your past history was definitely a great motivating factor."

Flint couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I do have some more tips and such but those can be discussed at your convenience." Xavier smiled and suggested that Flint get some rest. Having a dangerous telepath attacking his mind was sure to be tiring.

The funny thing was that Flint hadn't even noticed his mental exhaustion until it was pointed out to him and he all but raced to his room, so he wouldn't pass out in a random corridor along the way. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, still clothed and all.

Tuesday dawned extremely bright and since Flint had neglected to shut his curtains in his exhausted state, he was up at the ass crack of dawn. When he glanced outside, he saw a small collection of mutants meeting up in various states of awareness. A couple of them appeared to be stretching and he surmised that they must be about to do some sort of group exercise. He felt a strong urge to join them since he'd been much less than active lately and quickly threw on some workout gear. He forwent the eyeliner and hair gel, knowing that it would only run all over the place and dashed down to the mansion grounds to hopefully join in.

Flint was greeted by the others, some he knew and others not so much before they all suddenly froze. Flint could clearly hear a heavy set of footsteps and his instincts told him that the newcomer was most likely a threat.

"Alright, ladies. Let's kick this shit into gear. Twenty laps of the grounds to start with and the last one back does an extra five. NOW!" the voice barked and Flint didn't even need to check that it was Wolverine who ran the session.

The others all ran off, some with extremely worried looks on their faces, but Flint moved toward the stocky mutant. "Hey, is it okay if I join in?" he asked.

Wolverine just grunted, rolled his eyes and said, "Sure, it's your funeral. I'd start running if I were you or you'll be doing some extra laps."

Flint just flashed him a jaunty grin and salute before following the others at an easy pace. He knew his strengths and weaknesses. As this was an endurance course, he would easily outpace a good portion of the others if he kept his speed constant. It took him little time to catch up to the pack and by halfway, he was nearing the leaders. He didn't want to overexert himself by trying to win so he enjoyed his position all the way to the end. Wolverine was way better than some of the drill sergeants at SHIELD and Flint loved him for it. At the conclusion of the workout, his body was in pain like he hadn't felt in weeks and he couldn't be happier. Since the group met up every morning, he was welcomed to join whenever he felt like it. He had a feeling that he would do so more often than not.

A quick shower and breakfast later, Flint proceeded to conduct his first German class which was an absolute breeze and then he had his first danger room session with the Spades. According to Ororo, she and Jono alternated running them. Tuesdays belonged to the latter and by the end of the session, he was so used to the mouthless mutant's psychic commands that he no longer jumped in surprise or shuddered at reminders of Loki. He worked well with M and Kitty but was rather wary of Rogue. If she were to touch his skin, she'd quickly realise that he was not a mutant at all and his secret would once again be let out of the bag.

At the conclusion of the training session, he was invited to hang out with the three younger girls (Monet, Kitty and Rogue) but declined in favour of freaking out and trying to pick an appropriate outfit to see Natasha in. In the end, he decided to wear the shirt he bought when he stole away from Avengers Tower because that would certainly get a reaction out of the woman.

Flint arrived at Pete's Tavern at a quarter to ten. He didn't want to take any chances of running late and missing his one window of opportunity to see his best friend. It also gave him a chance to consume some liquid courage. He was just starting on his third shot of _Русский __Стандарт_ (_Russian Standard_) Vodka when the Black Widow appeared in front of him. As he'd purchased the whole bottle from the bartender and left the man a generous tip, he poured a shot for his guest who downed it immediately.

Natasha slammed the glass back onto the table. "You look well, Clint. If not, eccentric," she said with a twitch of her lips which to those who spoke Tasha, was nothing short of a full-bodied smile.

Flint smiled in return and immediately felt the tension in his shoulders ease. The Black Widow wasn't here to dismember him and he was extremely relieved. It was a little strange hearing his real name even though he'd only become Flint just over a week ago. "Hey Tasha. Long time, no see."

The superspy snorted inelegantly and poured them both another round. "And that's my fault how?" she asked.

Allowing a look of pained shock to cross his face, Flint said, "Well, you didn't stop to say 'hi' in the mall, did you?"

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Not with all the security camera's I couldn't but you knew that, of course." She swallowed the shot and ruthlessly topped the glass up. "How many am I down?"

"After that one? Only one more," commented Flint with a small grin.

Tasha eyed him steadily for a moment. "You're slipping. Last time we talked, you were at least a bottle ahead of me."

It was like a physical blow. Flint had done his best to forget that damnable night but no matter how much he distracted himself, the memories were always at the back of his mind. In fact, the only times he wasn't still dwelling on the past was during missions, training, exercises etc. or when he was with Петр.

At Flint's prolonged silence, Natasha poured her last catch up drink and polished it off. "Those were exceptional circumstances," she noted dryly as she poured another round which the other readily accepted and downed instantly.

"I..." the ex-Avenger started. "I... fuck, um... I just, I just couldn't stay in that damn tower a moment longer." He stared at the table forlornly as Coulson filled his mind and the doubts of his decision to flee came creeping back. Then he'd remember the moans from the ceiling and the guilt would momentarily vanish before the doubts would begin again. It was a vicious and painful cycle.

As if she herself were psychic, Natasha spat, "He's just lucky that I wasn't there at the time." The implication that she probably would have killed the handler was not lost on either of them.

"I'm glad," noted Flint. When the Black Widow looked like she was going to smack him over the head, he elaborated. "I'd rather he still be alive and you weren't on the run from Fury for his murder."

The assassin eyed her drinking partner with a shrewd expression. "How many times did you imagine putting an arrow through his eye?"

Flint smiled a wry grin. "Not as much as I should have."

Tasha nodded. "Love certainly made a fool of you. It was... nice to see you so happy though."

"Yeah," agreed the ex-Avenger. "It was good to feel normal for once. Then again, any time spent in the presence of Tony Stark is enough to make anyone feel normal."

The assassin let out a low chuckle before downing another shot. "He makes me feel normal."

"Exactly."

From there, it was just like they'd never been apart. Time fell away from them as recent events were updated, old stories rehashed and the bottle of vodka consumed with an empty sister soon standing by her side.

"There's something you're not telling me," noted Natasha with a sharp gaze that shouldn't have been possible after a full bottle of alcohol.

"Who? Me?" asked Flint with an obviously faked look of pseudo-innocence.

An indulgent smile crossed the superspy's face. "Who is he?"

Despite knowing that she would pick up on his little secret at some point or other, the ex-Avenger kind of hoped she might let it go until the next time they got together. Alas, he had no such luck. He heaved a small, calming breath before saying, "I think you'll like him."

"That's not what I asked," snorted the woman with a roll of her eyes. "Stop stalling."

"His name is Петр," said Flint and from the non-expressions on her face that he'd spent years cataloguing, she seemed to be both impressed and amused. The former was probably due to the Russian name and the latter, he must have pulled some sort of longing expression that she'd no doubt tease him with for the foreseeable future.

There was a long silence. It seemed that Natasha struggled with what she wanted to say, an unusual occurrence for the woman and something he'd only seen twice before. She eventually settled on, "Russian or not, I'll kill him if he even thinks of doing what Coulson did to you."

Flint was touched deeply by the sentiment but couldn't stop his retort, "The same way Shirley deliberately missed Coulson? That's not much of a threat, _сестра_ (_sister_)."

"Oh hush you," admonished the assassin before her gaze hardened. "How did you know about that?"

Flint felt a slight blush colour his cheeks. "I received your message and watched the altercation beforehand." He decided to keep his conversations and link with JARVIS to himself for the moment.

Tasha held his gaze evenly for a moment. "He's lucky I didn't kill him."

"Yes," agreed Flint and he was ashamed of the extremely small part of him that wished she had.

The superspy extracted a blade from somewhere on her person and carefully placed it on the table in front of the archer. "I swept it for tracers, although I know you'll do the same again anyway. It's clean."

Flint's fingers reached out and caressed Shirley, his beloved ankle knife. He looked up to his friend and she could read his complete gratitude in his eyes.

"I did the same with Morgan but figured you wouldn't want me to draw unwanted attention to you by bringing a bow into a bar," smirked the woman. "I'll leave it in your room sometime while I look into this... Петр."

Flint went from extremely grateful to outraged in moments. "W-what!" he spluttered as he casually strapped Shirley back where she belonged. He didn't know if it was the threat of her visit to the X-mansion or to Петр himself that troubled him more. It was probably the latter. He knew that her mind was already made up and she wouldn't be persuaded from her course, so he didn't even bother to protest. "Just, please don't hurt him. He can turn himself into organic metal but I know a mutant power isn't going to stop you if you've got your mind set on murder."

"That will all depend on him, then," noted Natasha with a slight shrug. "I will not stand idly by and let another man hurt you." The word 'again' was strongly implied.

Feeling a wave of love for his best friend, the ex-Avenger nodded in acceptance. "Thanks. Actually, can I call in that little favour you owe me from that bet we made back in Tehran?"

"Sure," agreed the superspy with an interested look.

"Can I borrow your Wednesday elevator code for the Tower?" he asked.

For once, Tasha looked incredibly surprised. It didn't happen often, so he committed it to memory. She snapped out of her stupor and rattled off, "Alpha, lima, x-ray, seven, November, November, Quebec, sierra, one, seven, uniform, Charlie."

"_Спасибо_ (_Thanks_), you just made my life a little easier," chirped Flint as he raised his glass before polishing off his final shot of vodka. "I better go but you know where I live. Wait a minute, how did you find me so damn quickly anyway?"

The Black Widow smirked. "Let's just say that I know how you think and that Asian joyriding friend of yours is entirely too photogenic on traffic cameras."

Flint briefly hugged his friend and headed home. It had been a wonderful evening and was definitely the calm before tomorrow's storm, when he would infiltrate his former home.


	19. Assaulting the X-teammates

**A to X**

_Chapter Nineteen - Assaulting the X-teammates_

Flint's second French lesson went even better than the first because for some inexplicable reason, Julian did everything that he was told immediately and without any fuss. He suspected the brunet might be up to something but since everything went well, he merely kept his misgivings to himself for a closer examine at a later time.

Splitting the class into thirds for practical speaking exercises was an inspired idea. The students were much more engaged and it appeared that they were starting to (at the very least) progress with their colour vocabularies.

During the lunch recess, Flint was waved over to a table where Jubilee, Monet and Megan were sitting. When he sat down, he felt a small tickle in his mind and his eyes flicked to M. "What was that about?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Monet flashed the ex-Avenger cheeky smile. "Oh don't worry. I just incorporated you into our small bubble of stealth. I've placed a mental suggestion around us. Others won't realise we're here, so we shouldn't be bothered or overheard."

Megan's eyes twinkled and her wings fluttered with happiness. "It's just like the Muffliato Charm from Harry Potter. No one will be able to listen in to anything we say. Except we're sort of also under a Disillusionment Charm as well because we can't be seen either, just like Anole when he's doing his chameleon thing but totally all at once, you know?"

The sprite smiled warmly at the conclusion of her rant and Flint was shocked that she'd actually said that many words at one time. It appeared she had lost her shyness around him. He just felt bad that he had absolutely no idea what the hell she was going on about. "Erm, sure," he warily agreed, earning a bright smile from the pink haired mutant and a couple of understanding grins from the other two women.

"Anyway, let's discuss this little mission were going on as we chow down," said Jubilee. She seemed a bit subdued but Flint suspected that she might be just a touch nervous. Despite their training, he doubted that they'd had much practical experience at breaking into secure headquarters of heroes before.

Flint proceeded to outline his plan, answering any questions the girls had to the best of his ability. He made sure to stress that Megan did not cover her face and that all three refrained from wearing anything with an X on it. He didn't want this infiltration scheme to be linked to his new home. Xavier would kill him, if Nicky didn't drop in and frogmarch him right back to the helicarrier first.

They finished up their lunch by midday and because they were all actually free, they decided to move up their timetable and get the mission over and done with. Monet maintained their hidden status although Flint was certain that Jean caught his eye with a suspicious expression. He didn't stick around to confirm it.

Within twenty minutes, the four of them were all changed and ready. It was strange to see Jubes out of her usual yellow trench coat but he made sure she left the highly recognisable garment at the mansion; she had worked with the Avengers once before and he didn't want her to be recognised. The archer then swiftly drove them toward Avenger's Tower. He concentrated on the road and blocked out the conversation the other three were sharing because he needed to focus. These girls, although well trained, were not SHIELD agents and he wasn't sure how well they would follow his instructions in a real life situation.

The tower soon loomed above them and Flint parked a reasonable distance away. It was within walking distance of the Tower but far enough away that Tony Stark shouldn't be able to see the getaway car from his formidable security cameras. The three girls hopped out of his black car and eagerly joined him on the footpath. It appeared that they were starting to look forward to the excitement and he himself felt the stirrings of adrenaline starting to course throughout his body.

"Alright. Pixie and M, stay out of sight but ensure that you're ready to make your entrance when I give you the signal. Jubes, let's go," Flint ordered (making sure that he didn't say the word 'please' like he had in his first Danger Room session) and the Chinese-American woman joined his side as they walked right through the front door. Sighing with relief, the ex-Avenger realised that he hadn't been identified by Tony's facial recognition software, just as JARVIS had promised earlier. The billionaire had given up on traditional security measures and wasn't the slightest bit worried since JARVIS was far more talented at spotting threats than regular metal detectors anyway.

The pair followed the AI's directions to easily navigate around the patrolling security officers. Flint had brought his man-bag and the separated version of JARVIS was transmitting on the same frequency as their comm channel. They had a close call with a sniffer dog but it appeared to just want a quick pat from Jubes before happily bounding back to its owner. It was a good thing that Flint hadn't needed to smuggle in explosives or his mission would have already failed.

When the ex-Avenger and the Mallrat reached the ninety-ninth floor, instead of heading to the northern elevator (which was constantly guarded by at least six officers) he instead lead the latter south; to an access grate for the ventilation system.

"Alrighty," said Flint with a wicked smirk. "It's time to see just how fabulous your fireworks truly are."

Jubes sent him an equally feral grin before rubbing her hands together and saying, "Sure thing, Flickers. Stand back!" She flopped her bright pink sunnies over her eyes and with a slight flick of her fingers, a technicolour burst of pink and blue blasted the panel clean off the wall at every bolt.

"Nice," congratulated Flint, who was both impressed at her accuracy and pleased that he didn't need to spend ages unscrewing the damn thing by hand. JARV had assured him beforehand that there was no one within hearing range and that he'd temporarily disabled the nearby security system for them. The artificial intelligence was definitely a great source of useful information.

They climbed the vents to the 129th floor (with Jubilee cursing him as a worse task master than Wolverine) before exiting and taking the stairs to the 150th level. He almost agreed with her statement; he was sweating profusely himself by the time they reached the only elevator capable of taking them past the Avenger's training room.

Just as he'd remembered, there was another guard station but unlike before, these ten guards needed to be bypassed. There was no other option. Flint tapped his earpiece and whispered, "Pixie, M, it's time to make your debut."

"Good luck," added Jubes with an uncharacteristically worried look on her face.

Flint gave her a comforting hug which (although she would vehemently deny it later) the firecracker eagerly sank into. "Oh," she sighed, "if only you weren't into Peter..." She gave his bicep a gentle stroke. Trust her to take advantage of the situation as they patiently waited for the cavalry to arrive.

It took a bit of time but there was a flash of bright pink light at the other end of the hallway and a gut-wrenching scream.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, Pinkie?" roared a menacing voice and Flint felt the now-familiar feeling of a mental touch.

Flint and Jubilee flattened themselves against the wall as the security officers hurried to the source of the disturbance and ran right past the two of them. The ex-Avenger psychically thanked M for hiding their presence (just like she had in the X-mansion) as they snuck into the now unbarred lift.

Flint tuned out the sounds of distant combat as he keyed in the Black Widow's passcode (ALX7NNQS17UC) and the elevator began to ascend. Being the absolute show pony that he was, Tony Stark had designed the lift with a one-way mirror to the training room. That way any guests to the Avengers-only portion of the tower could see them in action safely from behind the reinforced glass wall from whichever height they wished to.

Jubilee couldn't help but gasp. The Avengers themselves were in a full training session, just as JARVIS had informed them. Thor was flying around, zapping holographic enemies with lightning while Iron Man covered his back with repulsor fire. Sam was soaring much closer to the ground, helping out a terse looking Captain America as the indestructible Hulk was smashing the constructs; he couldn't help but liken the green man to a first grader playing with some action figures in a sandbox, only angrier.

What Flint did find interesting was that there were two unknowns in the simulation with them. The first was practically a blur as it raced around faster than even the eagle-eyed ex-Avenger could see while the second was clearly female, swathed in red with an eerie electric pink aura surrounding her. Now this was interesting information indeed.

Without warning, Pixie burst into the training room, screaming, "Help me, help me!" The Avengers froze (causing Cap to cop a holographic punch to the face, to Flint's vast amusement) and looked at the pink-haired woman.

Before anything could be said, M bashed her way through the floor with an almost inhuman snarl. "There you are, whelp. When I catch you, you'll wish you were never BORN!"

"Aaaaah!" shrieked Pixie, before she quickly intoned, "_Sihal novarum chinoth!_" and teleported to the top of the training room.

"Do you think your little magic tricks will be enough to save your pitiful life, fairy?" yelled M with such malice that if Flint didn't already know it was all an act, he would have fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

Iron Man ended the training program and the Avengers converged on M, with the exception of the red clad woman who floated up to Pixie.

"Get out of my way, you cretins!" yelled Monet as she punched a very surprised Thor in the face, sending him soaring right into the far wall.

The two X-men enjoyed watching the spectacle that Flint had devised to play out in front of them. M was an exceptional villain and he hoped she never turned to the side of evil because he never wanted to face that unstoppable force himself.

The scene disappeared from view as the elevator arrived on the 171st floor; the Avengers quarters. Flint and Jubilee sprinted to the other lift which would take them up to the top floor (199). The pair stealthily entered Tony Stark's workshop and made their way to the holographic computer interface. "Pixie, M, we're in the penthouse, get out of there. Thanks for the diversion," Flint said over the comm, knowing they would hightail it out of there immediately. It also put both himself and his companion on a strict timeline. No doubt Tony would soon return to his lab to do some tech related stuff that he had no hope of comprehending so they needed to hurry.

Jubilee looked around in awe at the older Iron Man suits on display around the room. "Wow," she whispered.

Nodding in agreement, Flint gave her a smile. He knew just how impressive it was to be surrounded by Stark's genius. He had lived here for a couple of years after all. Just as he neared the interface, his sharp eyes noticed something out of place. He held out a hand and stopped Jubes in her tracks. "Tony?" he cautiously said to one of the suits of armour. Unlike the other suits, this one had light blue glowing eyes, despite remaining as still as its companions. It was definitely being powered by an arc reactor somehow.

The armour suddenly lurched forward and Jubilee, to her dismay, screeched. The face plate moved up and the genius, billionaire, philanthropist approached the two intruders with a very displeased expression.

"Well, well, well," Tony said dryly. "Look who's come back to my not so humble abode."

Flint grimaced. That was not a good sign. "Hey," he quietly greeted his former teammate.

Tony raised an eyebrow and mounted the platform that started to disassemble his suit of armour. "You snuck out in the middle of the night, left no note, didn't call and now you just break back in? Really? I'm hurt." By the end of his spiel, his armour was completely removed, leaving the man in his black under-suit with his arc reactor proudly on display. His arms were folded just below it and his gaze, hard.

Despite the flippancy with which the inventor had spoken, Flint could tell the man was absolutely furious. He didn't really have a response so he let the silence sit.

"Wow. Nothing to say, Clint?" the armour-less man spat. "I'm disappointed. I thought you had a clever quip for every situation." Tony turned to look at Jubilee. "After seeing Natasha's code in the elevator, I'm rather disappointed that she's not here herself. So, what about you, honey? Are you some sort of SHIELD spy? Anything to contribute?"

Jubilee placidly shook her head, eyes wide.

Tony growled. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

Flint couldn't help it, he started laughing his ass off. Jubes? Not a talker? Seriously? Naturally, this was not the best course of action because the inventor's eyes narrowed even further. "I'm sorry," he apologised when his laughter subsided, "but usually, she never shuts up. That's fucking priceless!"

"HEY!" snarked Jubes with a glare of her own. "I'm not, like, that bad."

Flint raised an eyebrow at the firecracker, who rolled her eyes in return.

"Fine!" conceded Jubilee. "I am but leave me out of this. I want absolutely nothing to do with your little domestic." And just like that, the conversation reverted to its original format - Tony looking pissed, Flint feeling anxious and Jubes wishing she was able to disappear in a golden puff of glitter to avoid the incredible levels of awkward.

"I'm still waiting for some kind of explanation, Barton," noted the inventor dryly. "I thought we were bros..."

"We are!" interjected Flint somewhat desperately.

"...but with the way you acted," continued Tony as if the ex-Avenger had said nothing, "I'm starting to think that I was just deluding myself."

"Tony..." started Flint but the other man talked over him.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." Tony shifted his stance in his agitation. "Only my friends call me that. Clearly, that's not what we are anymore. From now on, you will refer to me as Stark. Your name privileges have been revoked."

For some reason, hearing that from the man he considered to be his best male friend hurt and way more than he ever thought it would. Unbidden, tears started to creep into Flints eyes and despite his best intentions, he was unable to stop them from overflowing. Jubes placed a consoling hand on his shoulder while Tony looked on in absolute horror. Emotions was not something either of them had discussed sober and it was times like these which reminded him why. "You got any vodka?" he rasped out as he tried to ignore the liquid gently running down his face. Damn, his mascara was going to look hideous...

Tony rolled his eyes (in an attempt to regain his former pep while still looking on uncomfortably) and allowed a small smirk to flit across them. "Are you really asking me that?" The inventor looked slightly up and said, "Hey JARVIS, seal the door from everyone. Even Brucey."

"Very good, Sir," came the immediate reply and there was an electronic bleep in the distance.

Tony strolled over to one of his many tech cupboards and entered a code. The inconspicuous storage space opened up but inside was a red velvet lined bar, fully stocked with all kinds of alcoholic beverages neatly displayed within. "This is my secret stash. Pep has no idea about this one."

Flint snorted. "I highly doubt that."

"Mr Robertson is correct," noted JARVIS, displaying his omniscience once again. "Miss Potts has known of this particular storage unit since Christmas last year."

"What? How?" sputtered the billionaire.

Naturally, JARVIS obliged his master and said, "Dummy fetched her because you had passed out over the workbench in the corner. She was going to clean it out but decided against it. She said..."

JARVIS played the audio recording of Pepper Potts' exact words. "Oh, let him keep this one. It's his workshop, his Batcave. I'll let him think he's so damn clever, for now. That way when he finds out that I already know, he'll throw one of his little hissy fits. I do so love watching those, especially with popcorn..."

"ME?" roared Stark over the recording which JARVIS tactfully ended. "THROW A HISSY FIT? As if I'd ever do something as ridiculous as that! Can you believe the nerve of that woman? She's acting like I'm some sort of drama queen. I mean, seriously, a hissy fit? What am I? A twelve year old girl?" He went on in this vein for quite a while and Flint was certain that JARV was recording this particular speech for Pepper's entertainment, just like she'd originally wanted. He hoped she got to watch it with the popcorn she quite obviously craved. Eventually, the inventor ran out of steam and brought over a small selection of alcohol, a few tumblers and a refrigerated bucket (that glowed a gentle blue, like his arc reactor) that was fully loaded with ice.

Without waiting for an invitation, Flint opened the bottle of Vodka with a feeling of great satisfaction mingled with relief and poured himself a generous helping before downing it in one go. He revelled in the trail of flame and rejoiced in the distraction the pain provided him.

Tony opted for some fancy Scotch but he paused in the process of decanting it when he spotted Jubilee reaching forward. "Oh, I'm sorry Sweet-Cheeks but are you old enough to drink?" he asked Jubilee.

The Chinese-American woman glowered at the man. "Of course I am," she seethed as she snatched the remaining glass from his hand and (much to her companions' astonishment) she topped it up with Tony's expensive scotch. She expertly knocked it back with a wicked grin that Tony couldn't help but return.

"Oh, I like this one," noted the billionaire. "Can I keep her?"

Jubilee didn't make a snarky retort like she normally would and instead was wistfully looking off into the distance. Flint assumed the woman was imagining exactly how great it would be to be the pet of an eccentric philanthropist and was no doubt trying not to drool or sigh aloud.

"So, Missy, what's your name and where on Earth did you learn to throw back straight scotch like that, hmmm?" inquired Tony with an interested look.

Flushing a little at the attention, Jubes introduced herself with a sour look at Flint. Apparently she had assumed the archer would have done the honours but the man in question was far too busy steadily working his way through the bottle of vodka to give a flying fuck. If he and Tony were going to talk about feelings and things, he'd much rather get himself smashed, thank you very much.

"I learned from the best," was all the Firecracker contributed after downing another glassful and Flint was just pleased that she didn't mention Wolverine by name. Not that he had any real intention of keeping anything from the billionaire now. Alcohol was excellent at loosening his tongue and it was why he never drank anything on the job. In fact, while he'd been with Coulson, he abstained almost completely. He hadn't wanted to let the information slip and it was just another reminder that he'd been far more invested in the arrangement than his handler had been. The usual pain he felt at thinking of Coulson was already slightly muted by the vodka, which was definitely a good thing.

Tony's eyes flitted back to Flint's. "So, are you thoroughly lubricated yet?" he asked with a smirk at his woefully obvious double entendre.

It was so classic Tony that Flint couldn't help but allow the corner of his lips to quirk slightly in amusement, despite how upset he was feeling. "Yeah," he all but spat out. "I don't really know where to start though," he added with a frown.

The inventor looked back a Jubilee. "Care to help out by sharing with the class, Jubblies?"

The Chinese-American woman blinked almost blankly a couple of times before her expression turned murderous. "Did you just mangle my already screwed up name and fashion it into a hideously inappropriate slang term for tits?" she asked rhetorically.

The woman's hands clenched and Flint knew that if he didn't intervene soon, she'd blast the man apart; billionaire or not. "Hey," he said with a half-grin (as he still wasn't feeling too great in general) "you've got to admit that it does fit remarkably well considering..."

Unfortunately, all the ex-Avenger did was redirect the woman's rage at himself.

"Okay, now I'm just confused. Explain," demanded Tony imperiously.

Flint flashed him a smile. "She's a dedicated bi but one of her latest fixations is..." he paused purely for dramatic effect. "Natasha."

Tony made the unfortunate mistake of trying to take a mouthful of Scotch at the wrong time and ended up spraying it all over the table. He spluttered for a few moments before breaking out into hysterical laughter. Flint couldn't help but join in and eventually Jubes herself allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

"That's... so... fucking... hilarious..." wheezed Tony as he tried to calm himself down.

"Alright, alright, get over it, Night-Light," muttered Jubilation, although her smirk remained on her face.

"So I'm not going near that with any sort of pole..." said the Avenger, who was interrupted by his ex-teammate.

"Chicken," Flint teased with a wide grin.

Tony arched an eyebrow, "But be that as it may, I am still waiting for some sort of explanation and it had better be good." The cheer left the room but at least the dark mood of before had broken. It was no longer unpleasant or stifling, just quiet.

Flint grabbed a serviette from the table and wiped gently at his tearstained eyes before letting out a huge sigh. "Okay, so here goes." He paused and couldn't help but be slightly amused as both Tony and Jubes leaned in to hear his tale of woe. It was strange, after keeping the whole story to himself (with only JARVIS, Charlie and Jean knowing the whole sordid truth) it was like a dam burst and the whole stupid story came tumbling out. His relationship with Coulson, the unexpected end of that arrangement and his need to get the fuck out. Finding a new place to stay with the X-men (and NO, you can't visit Tony - Fury will find out!) and starting the whole process of fitting in all over again. He even went on to talk about meeting up with Natasha the day before and it was clear that both parties were quite interested in that development.

Tony asked several questions about the superspy's welfare and showed that he did truly miss her. Jubilee on the other hand, simply asked for her number. Flint rolled his eyes and let her know that he much preferred his balls exactly where they were, thank you very much, which was easier than trying to explain that the woman didn't even have a phone. She was far too paranoid that she'd be traced if she carried one - even a disposable model, so she never did.

They talked of other things for a while and enjoyed their respective drinks. That was, until Flint realised something that should have been damn obvious from the start. "Wait just a minute," he all but yelled, stopping the philanthropist right in the middle of a lewd joke, involving a priestess, a prostitute and a cannibal. Flint's eyes narrowed. "You knew I was going to be here, didn't you?"

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment, confirming his suspicion.

"I mean, why else would you be hiding in your own workshop?" There was only one person who could have informed the billionaire. "JARVIS!" yelled Flint with a crack in his voice. For some reason, he felt extremely betrayed by the artificial intelligence.

"I am sorry, Mr Robertson but I cannot not lie to Sir when he asks me a direct question." J's voice was rather subdued and lacked its patent snark. "It is a part of my programming. I did try to stall and put him off but he was rather... persistent."

Flint's eyes snapped to the inventor in question who blushed a little. It was rare for the man to show how much he truly cared for others but this was definitely one of those times.

The man half-smiled and said, "JARV told me all about the visit you were planning and at first I was livid. You weren't even coming here for me, just for my fucking database! He wouldn't tell me much more, citing that your health was dependent on the secrecy but there was no way in hell that I was going to waste an opportunity to yell at you while you were in my damn workshop. I... er... well, thanks for telling me the truth and I will keep it to myself. I can be discrete about some things."

Flint snorted loudly and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Here," the Avenger continued. "Here's what you need. I was planning on watching you struggle with using my intuitive interface, since I'd already removed the data just to piss you off but your stupid sharp eyes spotted me first. I mean, I already got JARVIS to pose as me for the training session just so I could shock the shit out of you." He passed over a thumb drive to the fake mutant.

Flint couldn't help but smile. "You still did that, I almost wet myself when I saw your glowing eyes and thanks To... er... Stark."

The billionaire rolled his eyes. "Tony is fine, Merida," he muttered and that's how the inventor found himself with an armful of a grateful (and somewhat drunk) archer.


	20. Amazing and X-traordinary

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty - Amazing and X-traordinary_

In the end, Flint was exceptionally pleased that they'd started their infiltration of Avengers Tower early. By the time he and Jubes made their escape from Tony (who surprisingly agreed to keep their little soirée secret) it was rapidly approaching three o'clock. They picked up Megan and Monet from a café near the parked car and the latter consented to drive them back since she was completely sober, despite Jubilee's numerous protests and pleas.

Monet's motives weren't entirely pure. When she pulled into the garage, she took great delight in reminding Flint that the Black squad (a combination of both Spades and Clubs) were meeting up for their weekly training session together in just a few minutes. She couldn't wait to watch him suffer for his overindulgence. The archer thought a few uncomplimentary things about her and was rewarded with several mental slaps from the young woman. Apparently excessive alcohol consumption was not conducive to maintaining his newly erected psychic shields, which was certainly something he would have to consider in the future.

As there wasn't much time, Flint forewent a shower since he was already reeky and would only get worse during the session. At least Wolverine wasn't involved, he'd be able to smell Stark (and the booze) all over him. A quick change of clothes, a large spray of deodorant and a rinse of mouthwash later, the ex-Avenger made it to the Danger Room just in time and earned himself a deep scowl from Summers. He was on time, dammit! Why did that bastard have to be in the Clubs squad? Luckily, it turned out that the session was being run by Psylocke and not the stick-up-his-ass leader but the downside was that it was full of psychic dialogue. He was (to his surprise) getting rather used to the sensation of mental communication and he discovered his fears of Loki and anything mind-related had seriously abated. What was difficult was concentrating after his alcoholic lunch.

Unfortunately, the ex-Avenger was partnered up for sparring with fucking Summers. Thus he spent the majority of the two hour session dodging scarlet blasts and occasionally, getting a little singed. At least he managed to hit him with a maxed out sonic disc. That gave him at least half a minute to recover his breath (and still the contents of his stomach) before dodging for his life again. It was during that small break that he realised he'd attracted Julian's odd gaze again. What was with that guy?

The training session ended without any dramas and Flint washed up before reclaiming the thumb drive that was still sitting in the pocket of his trousers that he'd left in a heap on his floor. It was time to come clean about his little excursion.

Flint made his way to Xavier's office quickly and was instantly admitted to the room.

"Littleflint," noted Charles with some surprise. "What brings you to my office today?" The bald man was immaculately dressed as usual and a pleasant smile graced his lips.

The ex-Avenger made his made his way over to the chair opposite and sat down with an apologetic look on his face. Xavier's smile dropped as he raised an eyebrow at the display of remorse and Flint wordlessly passed the thumb drive to him.

There was a prolonged silence before the wheelchair bound man broke it. "And what, pray tell, is on this?"

"It's a comprehensive list of all SHIELD catalogued mutants, 'liberated' from the organisation by one Anthony Stark," replied Flint with a slight blush.

Xavier's stare remained glacial. "How did you manage to come by this, er, material?"

"I may have broken into my old lair to claim it myself," acknowledged the archer as he guiltily shifted in his seat. Why on Earth did this feel far more uncomfortable now than he ever did facing down an irate Nick Fury?

"I see," noted the man with obvious disappointment in his tone, which surprisingly felt like a knife stabbing Flint in the chest. "Were you discovered at all?"

"Well, you see..." started Flint but Jean's psychic yell cut over him.

_Professor, you'd better come to the den. Immediately._

Flint trailed behind the man, since he'd heard the communique too (she must have been very worried to broadcast that thought so loudly) as he wheeled across the hall to join a large group of mutants who were staring at the news on a large screen television. At the sight of a very grim looking Captain America, Flint wished he could vanish on the spot.

"...are unsure as to what her intentions were," Rogers was saying during a press conference. In the lower corner of the screen was a picture of an enraged Monet. "She possessed inhuman strength and was incredibly fast..."

A daring reporter managed to yell out, "Just how strong?"

Cap sent the zealous man a dark glare before answering, "Strong enough to knock Thor through a reinforced wall."

There were titters among the gathered press before they quietened down as the man drew another breath.

"We will continue to search for this woman, in conjunction with SHIELD, for the safety of the citizens of New York." The man then started to answer some questions while the den continued to fill with virtually everyone from the mansion. To her credit, Monet (who had already been in the room when Flint had entered) kept her head held high while virtually everyone else stared suspiciously at her.

"Hold up!" yelled the metallic sound of Iron Man from the screen as he all but barged Captain America out of the way, which was all that saved Monet from the grilling that Summers was about to embark upon. Anyone not looking at the television was now immediately doing so. "I have some new information about this robbery."

There were numerous overlapping comments from the press at this statement but they quickly quietened down when the billionaire raised a hand.

"After reviewing the footage and performing several diagnostics of the Stark Industries' security systems, I discovered a virus implanted within the main computer which was designed to steal classified Avengers information." Tony scowled at the mere thought that someone would try to compromise his technology. If Flint hadn't already realised that the billionaire was completely lying through his teeth, he would have been convinced himself. "It was activated remotely at the time the, er, woman accosted the other young lass. It is clear to me that these mercenaries were hired purely as a diversionary tactic for a person or persons unknown to gain access to the mainframe computer. Luckily, my protection programs will have scrambled any data the worm procured after it left a ten mile radius of this building so it was all for naught anyway. Haven't they learned yet that my tech is MINE?"

Iron Man answered various questions about the 'robbery' and as usual, charmed the reporters into believing whatever the hell he wanted them to. He downplayed how dangerous the mutants were and insinuated that they were probably contracted from overseas. His claims that his facial recognition software would have turned them up if they were American sounded entirely plausible. What had started as a media frenzy petered out into a not-so-interesting story.

"However, now may be an excellent time since, you know, you're all already here for us to make a special announcement," noted Tony, who stepped aside and pushed Cap back into the limelight. He whispered something into the man's ear and the blond nodded in agreement.

"As many of you are already aware, Hawkeye and the Black Widow have been placed into deep cover assignments for the safety of this country." If Flint hadn't been looking intently at the man who had ruined his last relationship, he would have missed the lie in his eyes. "Although the five remaining Avengers; Iron Man, Thor, the Hulk, Falcon and I have been more than capable of holding the fort in their absence, we've recently been working with two others who will be officially joining our roster as of today. I'd like to introduce you to our newest Avengers - the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver."

The couple who Flint had seen from the elevator entered the screen from the right. He glanced over at Jubilee, who returned a meaningful glance before they redirected their attention back at the screen. It was the silver-haired male who spoke first. "Greetings. I'm Pietro and this is my sister, Wanda." The man disappeared from the screen, only to be seen sitting on a car to the left before streaking to lean against a telephone box to the right. He then sped back to the podium and added, "As you can see, I'm faster than your average, well, anything really."

The likeable young man answered some questions before someone eventually inquired about his sister. "As my brother already stated," purred the woman in a rich, melodious voice, "I'm Wanda. We're actually twins although we're obviously not identical." There was some appreciative laughter from the press and even around the den. "Despite my name, I'm not actually a witch at all. I deal in probabilities and chance. In my presence the unlikely becomes reality." She waved a pink glowing hand and nothing seemed to happen.

"Get me out of this thing!" came a scared, feminine voice with a metallic twang. That was also the precise moment that Iron Man fell over.

Wanda waved her hand again and Iron Man's helmet floated up beside her, only to reveal a petrified Asian woman within the metallic shell.

"How does it feel to be Iron Man?" asked Tony Stark, who was immediately shown on the camera from within the press area. He held a CNN microphone in his grasp and waved it toward the startled woman who had been helped vertical by Captain America and Quicksilver.

The Asian woman blinked a couple of times and squirmed within the suit. "Honestly? Very uncomfortable." The press and gathered crowd giggled at that before a brilliant pink light blinded everyone. When it had receded, Tony was back within his precious suit and the Asian reporter was standing by her camera crew's side. The billionaire grabbed his still hovering helmet and placed it by his side.

When the press conference devolved into various discussions about the new mutants and their powers, Bobby muted the television and all eyes turned back to Monet.

Naturally, it was Scott who spoke first. "What the hell were you thinking? You were recognised on NATIONAL TELEVISION!"

Unimpressed with the man's rage, Monet replied, "Firstly, I was NOT recognised. Otherwise, they would have been shouting my name and out for my blood already. Secondly, I was getting the mission done." She flippantly flicked her head, whipping her hair about before crossing her arms with complete disinterest.

Flint decided it was time to intervene. "It was my idea," he said, attracting everyone's attention. "I figured that if anyone was going to have a complete mutant database, then it would be Tony Stark."

"Why would he?" asked Ororo before Summers could even think about yelling again. "I thought he was only interested in technology."

"That's true," agreed Flint, "but he's also a nosy motherfucker. With the Avenger's close contact with SHIELD, there was no way in hell that he wouldn't have hacked the whole organisation within a day."

"The newbie's right there," agreed Wolverine with a grunt.

The archer added, "So I came up with a little plan to get a copy of that database, which was successful, by the way."

"You were?" asked Jean in surprise. "I knew you and the other three were up to something but at least it wasn't for nothing."

_Three?_ asked Jono telepathically with a dark look, which matched his dour demeanour.

"Yeah," said Jubes with a shrug. "Me, Pixy Stix and M&M's helped Mr Flintastic out."

Summers started to rant again while Wolverine looked on with amusement. Flint had heard he had a soft spot for Jubes and this appeared to be the truth. Jean's forehead was marred with worry while Ororo started to usher out the younger students. Xavier steepled his fingers under his chin and contemplated the situation.

Soon only the senior X-men remained - Cyclops, Psylocke, Phoenix, Angel, Nightcrawler, Storm, Chamber, Wolverine and Karma. Pixie had tried to leave with the other students but a furious look from Scott had stopped her dead in her tracks. Monet, Jubes and Flint were still there too.

"That is more than enough, Scott," noted Charles with a stern look. He immediately turned it upon the three younger women. "Although I commend you in helping Flint to reach his goal, what you need to understand is that the X-men follow a distinct chain of command. The only people who can take you out on a mission is myself, Scott, Ororo or one of your squad leaders. As Flint is none of those, you should not have followed him as such. Do I make myself clear?"

The women in question all muttered affirmatives, some more sourly than others (Jubilee, of course) but it seemed that the bald man was not quite done. "To ensure that this does not happen again, you will spend an hour going over our regulations with Cyclops this Saturday. Failure to do so will result in your removal from the X-men."

Jubilee looked furious at the order but held her tongue (to Wolverine's continuing amusement) and the three girls were dismissed from the room.

Xavier turned his head Flint's way and the archer practically gulped. This was not going to be fun. Instead of speaking, the mutant merely sighed. "I understand," he eventually said after collecting his thoughts. "I know why you went there, I also know you were best suited to complete this particular mission. What I can't fathom is why you didn't at the very least inform me or one of the others of your intentions."

Flint looked guiltily at the floor for a bit.

"An explanation would be wonderful," said Charles wryly.

"O-Originally," Flint stuttered out, "I was going to infiltrate it by myself. Instead, I decided to take some back-up, you know, just in case but I didn't want to implicate the X-men in any way so instead of doing the official thing, I went with my gut and chose to include the others. I'm, I'm sorry, okay. I'm... not really used to having to follow the chain of command. I mean, most of the time, I was doing my own thing. Sure, I'd follow orders from my superiors but the tough choices were normally mine to make and, and I'm babbling now, aren't I?"

Jean started to laugh at that. "Yeah. You definitely are."

Flint face palmed but was distracted when Wolverine asked a question. "Why was this runt the best choice for breaking into Avengers Tower?"

Sighing heavily, Flint said, "Because I'm Hawkeye." Great. Now Wolverine was in the know, too.

Unfortunately, he forgot that Captain America had just said that he was a deep cover agent and only his years of experience saved him from copping an optic blast to the face as he dodged to his left side.

"Enough, Scott," snapped Xavier at the man. "He is not under assignment for SHIELD and you will not harm him. He is here seeking sanctuary, nothing more."

Summers' hand dropped from his visor to his side but his reluctance to do so was more than apparent.

Xavier's eyes flicked to Wolverine. "I know you have ties with Fury but as a personal favour to me, can you keep Clint's location from him? At least, for now?"

Flint blinked at hearing his actual name again. It was strange to hear it once more, especially from Charles of all people, the man who'd came up with his cover in the first place.

Wolverine's growly voice dragged the archer's attention back to the present. "I don't like it, Chuck, but I'll do it because I owe ya." His eyes turned to stare at Flint. "You've put an arrow in me three times. I haven't forgotten."

Shit. That was totally true and one of them was an explosive arrowhead too. Despite his training, Flint felt tingles of fear and the feral mutant's smirk showed that he'd probably smelled it. Damn the furball's enhanced senses to the fiery depths of, what does Thor call it again? Muscle-haim? Musk-elam? Er, whatever the Asgardian realm of fire monsters is, anyway.

"What about the Widow?" asked Karma, the Asian mutant who could possess bodies. Xi'an Coy Manh was a petite Vietnamese woman with shrewd eyes. "Is she on a sanctioned mission or is that just another SHIELD smokescreen?"

Flint looked sheepishly at the woman. "Er, she actually left to look for me."

"Zat does not sound _gut_ (_good_)," noted Kurt with an agitated flick of his prehensile tail. "_Die spinne_ (_The spider_) could find you at any time."

"Oh, she already has," Flint informed everyone with an absent wave of his hand. "By the way, Uncle Charlie," he added with a look at the man. "She said she might drop by to check up on me."

The bald man looked heavenward and sighed deeply. "Of course she will," he noted dryly. He looked over toward Ororo. "Storm, please give this to Forge," he ordered the chocolate coloured woman as he passed her the thumb drive that Flint had gotten from Tony. "Also, ask him to step up our security. Let's see if we can, at the very least, make it challenging for the Black Widow to infiltrate the mansion."

"Of course," agreed Ororo and she left the room immediately.

Summers then took that as a sign that the impromptu meeting was over and he stomped angrily from the room, muttering expletives under his breath. He was immediately followed by a somewhat apologetic looking Jean. She reached an arm around his shoulder and started to soothe the man before they disappeared out of view.

Psylocke and Angel took their leave, hand in hand and were quickly followed by Jono and Xi'an. Wolverine moved right up in Flint's face and they stared evenly at each other for a few moments. The samurai snarled a particularly feral grin and said, "Now that I know who ya are, Cupid, don't even think about missing a boot camp session from now on. You've been slacking off in the mornings, Avenger. That will change." He walked off without waiting for an answer and Flint knew he was going to regret telling the feral mutant about his former life.

Now that they were all but alone, Xavier dressed Flint down a bit for his recklessness but despite the mildness of his tone, his words cut deeper and made much more of an impression than any scolding he'd received from anyone else, including both Fury and Tasha. The man placed a warm hand on his hip, letting him silently know that he still supported him before wheeling from the room.

Flint shifted on the spot with the need to do something. Kurt (the only other person in the room) must have picked up on this. "Vell, _mein freund_ (_my friend_), if memory serves, you too used to perform in ze circus," he cheerily stated as he hooked a blue, furry arm around his shoulders and started to steer him from the room.

They made some small talk about their respective times in the spotlight before Flint realised the blue mutant was leading him down to the Danger Room.

"_Wunderbar!_ (_Wonderful!_)," noted Nightcrawler after he started up a program. The empty metallic space filled with what Flint assumed was the interior of the Munich Circus tent. Despite his previous feelings of shame and regret, he couldn't help but feel uplifted by the lights and excitement of life under the big top. Kurt led the ex-Avenger to a ringside seat before agilely leaping backward into the ring.

The ringmaster walked to the centre of the tent but to Flint's immense surprise, it was actually Xavier who was now standing under the spotlight. It took a moment for his brain to realise that Kurt must have programmed his friends into the circus show and immediately relaxed.

Xavier started the show by introducing Rogue, the amazing lion tamer and her companion, Beast; the Blue-haired Lion. Flint laughed at the spectacle, knowing that the real Beast would be supremely unimpressed that he'd (not matter how holographically) been forced into such a ridiculous situation.

Петр then took the stage and Flint couldn't help but admire his scantily clad form. He proceeded to show off as the strongman of the circus by lifting all sorts of heavy items effortlessly, usually one-handed. He was followed by the Sirens; Theresa sang a haunting melody with her multi-faceted vocal chords while Megan, Monet, Jean, Xi'an, Mercury, Surge and Psylocke performed a perfectly synchronised aerial silk routine. Their respective outfits were pink, red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple (like a rainbow) and their silks were artfully coloured to match.

Rockslide was the contortionist and his rock-like appearance made his feats seem much less gut-wrenching than the man from Flint's old circus days. He knew it was another art form and had huge respect for the contortionists themselves but it always made him feel queasy nonetheless.

The trapeze was manned by Nightcrawler himself and Flint couldn't help but be in complete awe of the blue, furry mutant. His flexibility and mastery of the art were both apparent. The way his body followed the movements with sheer grace and precision, showed the ex-Avenger exactly how talented the performer truly was. It was like the mutant was born to do it.

There was an interlude of clowns and although it took Flint a while with the copious amounts of face paint and hideous costumes, he was able to work out who they all were. Jimmy was throwing pies around like a maniac, catching a tutu-clad Kitty right in the face. She then angrily chased him around the tent, eventually snagging him with a balloon animal around the neck. Anole was armed with an extend-o-glove and managed to punch Bobby from behind who retaliated with a barrage of snowballs.

Angel and his performing hawks then took to the stage. The smaller birds swooped around the man in astounding formations. They were then supported by Chamber, who turned out to be the circus' fire breather. He hurled huge flames into the air that the hawks circled and dodged easily.

Ororo's plate spinning routine was quite amazing. Flint was certain she was using the wind to aid her in setting all twenty-seven plates in synchronised formation. He also thought Julian was using his telekinesis to keep his juggling balls aloft while he matched Storm plate for ball behind her. As Ororo collected her plates back up, Forge took to the stage and expertly swallowed a large broadsword. Julian called out a quick warning, before hurling one of his juggling balls Forge's way. The Native American Indian reefed the sword back out of his mouth and expertly cleaved it in two.

Jubilee then executed a flawless gymnastics routine, while her patent fireworks dazzled the crowd in her wake which she then followed up with some awesome trampoline work. At the end of her set, she launched almost sideways. Flint thought that she'd screwed it up and would be injured (despite the fact that in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't really his friend). He all but leapt to his feet but quickly realised she had intentionally landed on a large cannon.

A very surly looking Wolverine (complete with a ridiculous looking helmet) was sliding himself into the contraption. He waved briefly before he disappeared within. Jubilee leapt down to the floor and clicked her fingers, while igniting the fuse with a bright pink firework. Seconds later, Wolverine was blasted to the other side of the tent, to tumultuous applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages. Ordinarily, we'd have the Scintillating Cyclops and his Lasers of Doom now but instead..." cooed Xavier into his microphone with a flash of toothpaste white teeth. He winked at the crowd before continuing. "...we have a special once-in-a-lifetime treat for you! You will experience one of the best in the business; A man who never, ever misses his target. Be prepared to be dazzled by the one, the only, Amazing Hawkeye!"

The crowd began to cheer and Flint realised three things. One - Kurt must have altered his program on the fly while Flint was busy watching the show, the sneaky bastard. Two - The mutant had been pumping him for information as they walked to the danger room because everything that he'd need to complete his old routine was already in the ring and three - he'd get to use a bow for the first time in a fortnight.

The archer couldn't wait.


	21. Alcoholic X-tremes

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty-one - Alcoholic X-tremes_

It took little effort for Flint to launch himself into his old circus routine. He only hesitated for a moment and that was to enjoy the wonderful feeling of holding a bow in his hands once again. There was something comforting about having its firm weight in his grasp, using his strength to retract the taught string and adjusting to the familiar lopsidedness of a quiver. Soon he was vaulting around the tent and pulling off every stunt he'd learned from Trickshot all those years ago. Despite his lack of practice, he never wavered and landed every arrow.

The crowd plus a very excited Nightcrawler cheered loudly at the conclusion of the act and despite knowing the arena and its inhabitants were merely holographic, the archer couldn't help but soak up the attention. After years of being in the spotlight (whether it was as a performer, assassin or Avenger) it was hard for the man keep hidden within the X-mansion, despite the necessity of doing so. He missed the adoration he'd gotten used to.

Nightcrawler came over, clapped Flint on the back and thanked him for a spectacular show. The ex-Avenger in turn complimented the furry blue mutant on the rest of the performances and they cordially left the room together, while continuing to be members of the mutual admiration society.

The following six days passed by in a blur of French and German classes, Danger Room exercises, language study sessions with Петр and the most horribly gruelling morning workouts he'd ever experienced, courtesy of the vengeful Wolverine. If the sadistic mutant kept this up, Flint would probably end up even more ripped than Thor; something he previously thought to be an impossible feat for a mere (non-Super-Soldier-Serum-ed) human.

It was after one such workout that Flint got the absolute shit scared right out of him. He'd just showered and was about to flop down onto his bed (clad only in a towel) to find it already occupied by the Black Widow. "Holy shit fuck!" was his not so eloquent response to the unexpected presence.

Tasha chuckled evilly from her reclined position. "Hello, Clint. What a... quaint place you have here. It's very... cosy."

"It's not the size that counts, it's how you use it," countered the archer automatically as he moved to his wardrobe. He extracted an outfit and started to don it. It's not like Tasha hadn't seen him naked before. On various SHIELD missions, quick changes were often necessary and those who possessed modesty outgrew it rather quickly. As he was changing, he sent Xavier a psychic message informing him of the Black Widow's abrupt appearance.

Natasha silently eyed Flint as he dressed and was just about to speak when a soft knock sounded on the door. She raised an eyebrow at him and he blinked twice, soundlessly letting her know she was safe to remain in the open. The assassin sat up and quickly moved to the end of the bed anyway, just as a precaution.

Like the archer had assumed, Xavier was patiently waiting on the other side of the door and he swiftly wheeled into the room as if he hadn't a care in the world. Flint couldn't help but admire the man's ability to remain unflappable. It was similar to how Coulson acted under pressure, yet it didn't annoy him like his former lov... er, handler used to.

Xavier let a warm smile grace his face, undeterred by the wary (if not outright hostile) look the woman shot him. "Greetings. My name is Charles Xavier. Welcome to the X-mansion, Ms Romanoff."

The Black Widow eyed him steadily for a few moments before eventually replying, "Are you in the habit of probing the minds of others?"

Xavier looked completely baffled by the statement and Flint awkwardly cleared his throat.

"A-actually," the ex-Avenger eventually stuttered out, "I screwed up and kind of let your name slip. Sorry!" The archer had to quickly dodge a kick aimed at his manhood as the redhead leapt acrobatically from her perch on the bed. He earned himself three quick strikes to the head for his slight. "Tasha!" he whined as he rubbed his head.

Natasha's eyes flicked between Xavier and Flint several times at a rapid pace. A thoughtful look was quickly replaced with a somewhat astonished one. Of course, no matter the situation, she's never been completely surprised but this was the closest Flint had ever seen her to it. He should throw a party to commemorate the event.

"You trust him that much?" the superspy asked. "Already?"

Flint gave her a little grin. "Yeah, I do."

"Then I shall do the same but if for some reason this goes like our little mission in Cebu..." she let the threat die out, knowing that Flint would fill in the blanks satisfactorily. She turned her attention to a somewhat amused Xavier and adopted a ready stance. "Natasha Romanoff, codename: Black Widow. Former agent of SHIELD."

"You're not going back?" asked Flint with surprise.

The redhead chuckled lowly. "There were only six people I trusted completely. Captain America, Falcon, yourself, Black Panther, Logan and Philip Coulson. My list is now down to four and as much as I like Sam, let's just say that until I don't feel like stabbing the other two in the head whenever I see them, I'll keep my distance." Her grin turned slightly feral at that and for a moment, she reminded Flint of Wolverine. It was a frightening comparison.

"Are you sure that's a wise course of action? Sir is really hoping that you will return to the Aven..." JARVIS started to say from his position suspended on the back of the doom.

"You are not welcome in this conversation," growled Flint with a dark look at his man-bag. Apparently (according to Natasha) he missed seeing Xavier start in surprise at the unexpected artificial intelligence's voice because his vicious gaze was far too intensely focussed on JARVIS.

"I always thought you and Stark's pet project were on good terms," commented Tasha. She seemed reluctantly amused.

Flint's scowl at the artificial intelligence deepened. "That was until yesterday, when I questioned him about how Tony knew I had broken back into the Tower. The little sneak admitted that he'd been updating Tony daily about my activities. He's just lucky that he kept my reasons for being here and my location from his master or I'd already be looking into ways of inflicting crippling pain onto an artificial intelligence."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Of course JARVIS was. He's Stark's everything. I don't see why you're surprised."

Transferring his glare from the man-bag to Tasha, Flint all but barked, "Well we can't all be as distrustful as you!"

After unapologetically shrugging, the Black Widow merely stated, "That's how I've managed to stay alive."

The clearing of a throat brought the two ex-SHIELD agents' attention to the handicapped man they had both almost forgotten was sitting calmly in the room. Their SHIELD training had always impressed the importance of being fully aware of your surroundings but both assassins had mentally filed the man as non-threatening. "I have no real wish to intrude on your... reunion. I was just wondering if you might be staying for a little while, so I can get a room prepared for you in the meantime," said the man with poorly concealed amusement.

Natasha opened her mouth but Flint spoke up before she could say anything. "Of course she'll be staying..." He was swiftly interrupted.

"I'll be doing nothing of the sort!" dismissively snorted the woman with contempt.

Flint rolled his eyes. "You have no superiors and no one to report to. No job, mission or anything. How often do spies like us get a chance to have a holiday? So shut up and stay for a couple of days."

Natasha looked like she was going to argue so Flint played his trump card.

"I'll buy some vodka and watch you try to drink Wolverine under the table. He's got an outrageous healing factor. It's been far too long since you faced a worthy challenge like that." Flint smirked, knowing he'd already won with just a small glance at his friend's intrigued look.

A smiling (which Flint found to be an odd sight to see) Natasha gracefully accepted the man's offer of refuge and was informed that the room opposite Flint's was to be hers for as long as she deemed necessary.

Xavier turned to wheel toward the door. He extended his arm to reach the handle but stilled and swivelled around. "Before I go, there's something you should know. The psychics within the X-men do not believe in scanning someone's mind without explicit permission. We will never read or tamper with your head. It was something Flint himself was rather wary about at first. If you ask him, I'm sure he can tell you all about it." Without waiting for a response, the mutant wheeled from the room.

The silence left in the bald man's wake was broken by Natasha. "Is he telling the truth?"

Flint nodded. "Yeah. They're pretty good about it all. In fact, I've been receiving training from the man himself in how to shield my mind from external forces. It's been invaluable. I even managed to repel a seasoned telepath last week." He shot his friend a toothy grin as he remembered Emma Frost rolling around her own bubble shield, under the feet of an elephant.

"That sounds useful," noted the Black Widow with interest.

Flint smiled, "I'm sure Uncle Charlie will have no problems teaching you too, if you'd like."

"And who, pray tell, is this Uncle Charlie character?" the superspy asked blandly.

His grin widening, Flint filled her in about his new cover as Flint Robertson and the friendships he'd started making; real honest-to-God friendships. It was something he never really thought he'd have considering his life so far but over the course of his stay in the mansion, he could safely say that Xavier, Jubilee, Jean, and Monet were definitely his friends. Петр too but he was hoping that would evolve into something more. He was in the middle of an anecdote about his French class when he cut himself off at the sound of Xavier's psychic voice.

_I'm sorry Flint but Wolverine has already picked up on your guest's scent. He's headed your way right now in a less-than-pleased manner._

Flint thought _Cool, thanks for the heads up!_ before turning his attention back to the visibly puzzled Natasha.

"Okay, so Wolverine's on his way. He smelled you somehow and the Professor wanted to warn us," summarised Flint quickly.

Besides a blink, Natasha took the news that her friend had obviously become rather fluent at psychic communication and that one of the most vicious mutants on the planet was headed her way very placidly. She unconcernedly folded her arms and waited for the man to appear.

The door was slammed open without preamble and the feral mutant stood within the now empty doorframe. His six blades were extended and he launched himself at the woman.

The Black Widow cartwheeled to her left and landed in a crouch, narrowly avoiding three blades which sliced barely an inch above her head. She landed a painful looking uppercut to Wolverine's jaw, grabbed him by the hair and kneed him in the head in one swift motion.

Wolverine snarled and blindly slashed his blades forward but having let her hands move down from his hair to his shoulders, Natasha used them as a balancing point as she jumped and held herself momentarily in a plank over the swipes. She then used her now downward momentum to her advantage and placed her legs on his upper thighs before flipping the mutant upside-down into a wall. Flint blanched in sympathy, his friend was bound to bruise spectacularly on her lower back from taking the brunt of that fall, especially considering the mutant had adamantium-laced bones and weighed substantially more than a regular person. Of course, he was well-aware that after her time in the Red Room, the Black Widow had a slightly weaker variant of the Captain America serum in her system and would recover rather quickly nonetheless, the lucky bitch.

When Wolverine hauled himself back to his feet, he smirked broadly at the woman. "Ya certainly haven't lost your touch, Midge."

Natasha smirked at the feral mutant and airily replied, "Well, your performance left a lot to be desired. As expected."

Since it was clear that the two were rather well acquainted (because Natasha didn't kill the mutant for using what was clearly a nickname) Flint sat back and watched their reunion. Apparently, the two had gone on a couple of missions together for Fury over the past few years. While they caught up with each other, Flint thought about the strange nickname and worked out that since a midge was another word for a gnat, the mutant must know her actual name Nat already. He was drawn out of his thoughts when she called the other Logan and he couldn't help but squeak.

"Just wait a goddam minute here," Flint all but yelled in surprise, drawing the attention of the other two occupants of the room. "This, this, this damn slave driver is the Logan that you trust?" he eventually stuttered out. He couldn't believe that the sadistic bastard was one of only four people that his suspicious friend fully trusted. Natasha simply raised an eyebrow in response as Wolverine delightedly smirked.

Logan flicked his eyes back to Tasha. "So Midge, since I know you're the genuine Widow, is this really that damn asshole who's speared me three times?" Tasha simply smiled and nodded as she enjoyed watching Flint squirm on the spot.

"I have no doubt that you've been punishing him for that already but he has made an interesting proposition involving the both of us..." started the superspy.

Wolverine snorted and interrupted with, "As great as we'd be, I ain't interested in another romp."

Tasha eyed the man steadily as Flint started to choke on the spot. "Y-you and HIM?" he all but shrieked at his friend.

Eyes hardening, the superspy quietly pointed out, "I'm certain he could say the same thing to you."

"WE AGREED NEVER TO SPEAK OF THAT AGAIN!" roared Flint to Tasha's sadistic amusement and Logan's surprise. His cheeks pinked in both anger and embarrassment.

There was a brief silence that Wolverine was more than happy to shatter with a feral sneer. "Ya slept with that chump? I never thought you'd be that desperate, Midge."

Despite his rage and shame, Flint couldn't help but feel rather offended. Why the hell wouldn't she want to screw him? It's not like he was ugly or anything. In fact, he surely had to be a better lay than Wolverine of all people. Of course, there was no way he would ever verbalise these thoughts because one, he'd prefer to pretend that Tasha had slept with neither of them and two, the superspy would have no qualms about telling him (in graphic detail) who was better in bed and why. It was a conversation he definitely didn't want to hear or participate in.

"It involved an evening full of excellent Vodka, which funnily enough is exactly what the original proposition was all about; a drinking contest. It's been years and I feel the need to best you once more." Tasha's smile could be mistaken as friendly but the other two men both knew better; it was nothing short of shark-like.

Logan smirked in return before saying, "We'll need provisions and players."

"Clint has already volunteered his bank account for the entertainment and will be needed as the referee," noted the Black Widow. "So I'll leave you to select the other participants at your leisure."

Wolverine nodded and turned to Flint. "Yer gonna need a lotta booze for this circus but I'm sure Fury paid ya well. If not, hit yer buddy Stark up for a loan. Don't skimp on the Vodka and get some decent beer and cigars while yer at it." When the ex-Avenger merely nodded, he added, "Well, hop to it, Cupid. We're gonna be startin' at noon. You better be in the den, ready to go or I'll make you regret it."

Flint muttered some rather unflattering curses under his breath, knowing full well that Logan could hear them all before he claimed his car keys from his bedside table. As he was driving to the nearest liquor store, he couldn't help but marvel at how spectacularly crazy today had already been and it was barely ten in the morning!

The archer conscripted Jean's help (who also happened to be in the garage) to telekinetically carry several cartons of vodka, beer and scotch from his car so he wouldn't have to make six trips. Who knew how many other healing-factored people would be at this damn event? He certainly wasn't going to take the chance of running out of booze and suffering even more each morning from the feral mutant's displeasure. The telepath had been surprised at the amount of provisions but was more than happy to help out anyway, as long as she was invited to attend the festivities, that is.

Despite his initial misgivings, Flint was starting to look forward to the unexpected event but wisely decided to stock up on food at lunch beforehand. There was no way he was going to succumb to the alcohol first; he'd never hear the end of it and he had a strong suspicion that Logan would try anything to make it come to pass. So not happening.

Midday rolled around and the reason for Jean's presence in the garage became apparent. Flint couldn't help but stare at Tasha. The notorious Black Widow was looking anything but lethal in a short maroon top and a pair of jeans. Xavier must have sent her on another shopping trip. He'd never seen her look quite so casual before but then again, she was always dressed for combat at SHIELD headquarters and Avenger's Tower since a world-threatening crisis could occur at any time. As she was now a free agent, she could actually relax for once. It still struck him as strange though.

Since they were the only two in the den so far (word had already gone around the mansion that Wolverine had declared the room off limits for anyone that would like to keep their hands attached to their bodies) they spent the time discussing the superspy's cover. She decided that the easiest course of action was to use her name, since no one else could connect it to the Black Widow. Her story was simply that she was visiting Flint for a short holiday.

Soon the room filled up. Wolverine was first to arrive and somehow managed to simultaneously light his cigar and chug down a beer within the first ten seconds. He plonked himself down at the head of the den's poker table and started shuffling the cards absently. Tasha brought a bottle of Vodka to the table and forced Flint to collect a tray full of shot glasses. She slid easily into the seat to the feral mutant's right. There was no way that the archer was going to sit next to a guy that would cheerfully disembowel him and headed to the free seat beside his best friend.

Jean entered next and cheerfully dragged a sour-looking Summers behind her. She sent him over to bring her a beer before she started to telekinetically sort the poker chips into eight even piles. When he spotted Natasha, his hand went automatically to his visor but his girlfriend rolled her eyes and snorted, "Do you honestly think Logan would have let someone he didn't know well sit next to him?"

"B-but," stuttered Scott before he whispered, "she's a redhead and you know that's his type."

Wolverine just snorted with amusement, having heard the comment anyway. "I've already played that game with Midge here. It was a onetime deal." He looked toward Tasha and added, "That's Slim and Red."

Jean rolled her eyes again. "Oh, for the love of God. I'm Jean and this is my boyfriend Scott. Never let Logan introduce anyone unless you really don't want to know their actual names." She sat down beside Logan and was soon joined by Cyclops. "Oh, and the silver haired lady is Ororo and the blue one is Kurt," the woman added as the two mutants entered the room. They both smiled and joined the rapidly filling table.

Flint took the opportunity to introduce his friend to the others and noticed Jean's piercing look. It seemed that she too remembered the Black Widow's name when he let it slip. Obviously Tasha noticed as well and Flint was once again smacked over the head.

"Hey!" yelled an angry voice from the doorway. "Leave Biceps alone, okay? What the hell did he ever do to... YOU!" Jubilee squealed as she plopped into the last chair at the table, right next to Flint. "Oh my!" she breathed airily as she all but sighed aloud. Flint realised that she must have recognised the woman from the photograph he'd shown her. Tasha was going to kill him before the end of the evening for having a mouth looser than a Red-Light District hooker. He groaned and let his head fall heavily upon the table with a loud thunk. Naturally Jubes took the opportunity while he was distracted to fondle an arm but meeped when she noticed Tasha's fierce gaze. Without moving from the table, Flint introduced the two forlornly. This was rapidly devolving into one of the most painful moments of his life.

Wolverine took charge of the table and not so politely informed the party that they were in for five stud poker. The rules were simple; to be dealt in, they needed to down a shot of Vodka otherwise they could buy in with $100 (of chips). Therefore, those not faring well would have no option but to drink. Also, as there were eight players, if the deck ran out of cards during a hand, too bad for the remaining players. They just had to suck it up and tough it out.

The players all verbally agreed to the rules (Flint and funnily enough, Summers only reluctantly so) before Logan started to deal the first hand. Jubes reached for her cards almost immediately but froze at Wolverine's growl. "Drink first, Kid, or I'll slice your hand off." Jubilee rolled her eyes but complied with the request and placed her empty shot glass in the middle of the table with everyone else's. Logan smirked. "Looks like no one wants to skimp on the first round. I'm surprised," he noted with a pointed glance at Flint.

Naturally, the archer couldn't help but bristle at the comment but turned his attention to his hand. It was a pair of threes. He wouldn't be last but winning was doubtful. Bluffing was an option but seriously, when the feral mutant can literally smell fear and one of the others was a telepath, it seemed like a losing strategy right there. He threw the rest away and his replacement cards were no improvement. Ororo ended up winning the first round with a queen high flush of spades.

They quickly settled down into a rhythm and everyone managed to win a few hands each. Only Tasha and Logan had a few successive victories and their chips were starting to multiply. Scott was the first to buy his way out of a shot and was ribbed by the whole table good-naturedly for a while but the first to lose all his chips was Kurt. The blue mutant went all in but his full house of aces over nines was defeated by Jubes' four of a kind. He staggered awkwardly to his feet (Flint noticed his tail was for once not animated like usual but hanging limply behind him) and drunkenly excused himself.

Jean was the next to lose out, quickly followed by Ororo. The two women stayed to watch on but were quickly ejected by an angry Wolverine after they both succumbed to giggling fits. By this stage, Flint was starting to buy his way out of a few rounds because his head was beginning to pound. Beam Me Up, Scotty (as Jubes had taken to calling him throughout the evening) was also buying out of shots but his luck ran out. He went all in and lost it to the firecracker.

Flint couldn't help but be impressed with Jubilee. She had somehow started to dominate the game. Both Tasha and Logan were looking a lot worse for wear now as neither had bought out of a shot and despite their respective healing factors, there was only so much their systems could process. He caught his best friend as she passed out while trying to shuffle and Logan cheered, "Ah win, Madgy. Suck un that!" before he fell off his chair and started snoring on the floor. Jubilee shot the man an exasperated but fond look.

"I'm gonna take Tashie to'a room. I'll catchya tomorrow, Jubesie," Flint slurred to the other and bid her goodnight. Now, he just hoped he'd be able to negotiate stairs in his current state.


	22. Adenine X-tracts

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty-two - Adenine X-tracts_

Flint woke up the next morning with only a mild hangover. He drank a lot of water but stayed away from pharmaceuticals; he'd discovered early on that they sometimes inhibited his enhanced sight and disliked the disadvantage it provided, despite the pain relief. Many a time, Tasha had to force him to take them and he only relented because she would stay by his side for the duration of their effect. Thus he knew he was safe.

Speaking of his friend, Natasha was no worse for wear after the poker and drinking afternoon/evening. It was horrible really. No matter how paralytic the woman became, due to her semi-healing factor, she had never once suffered through a hangover. It sickened the archer so much. If he overindulged, it could haunt him for up to three days because he wasn't quite as young as he used to be. The superspy had the good grace to restrain herself from teasing him for his intolerance because really (as opposed to other non-conditioned or experimented upon humans) he always held his own and then some.

Flint showed her around the mansion and introduced him to some of the X-men and students. It was still strange seeing his friend in civilian clothes but decided she pulled it off spectacularly. Today she was clad in a pale blue singlet with calf length beige pants. Jean's taste in clothes was excellent and he really appreciated the illustration and catchphrase on the singlet. It had a picture of Wonder Woman's head in the centre of it with the words **Who needs men?** underneath it. Every time he read them, he couldn't help but smile.

Flint even got permission from Xavier to show Tasha the lower levels of the mansion as long as she wasn't seen entering or leaving it. He mentally rolled his eyes. Natasha is the world's best espionage agent, having surpassing the director himself. As if she would be caught by some teenagers in a frigging mansion! He felt pain from a harsh mental slap and realised that Xavier must have overheard his less than flattering thoughts. Oops.

"Really?" he called out as he rubbed his head, to Xavier's amusement. "It was only the truth..." he muttered to himself under his breath. Natasha quickly discerned what had occurred and chuckled to herself.

As expected, they were not seen entering the basement. _Take that Uncle Charlie!_ Flint sent to Xavier from the elevator. He heard the man's faint psychic laughter from afar.

Natasha seemed genuinely impressed with the setup. They explored the medical bay, security room and had a couple of quick tussles in the Danger Room. Then they briefly stopped in the War Room and to Flint's immense delight, stumbled upon Beast who was rapidly typing away on a computer keyboard.

"Hey Hank!" chirped Flint happily. He really liked the furry blue mutant, despite having little contact with him.

"Greetings and salutations to you too, Flint," said the mutant before he turned around to face the two ex-SHIELD agents. He blinked a couple of times and smiled at them. "And Natasha, my dear, it has been far too long since a man as humble as myself has been graced by a presence which outshines that of the moon herself."

"You remember me, after all this time?" inquired Tasha, as Flint's mouth had fallen open in shock and was unlikely to fill the silence any time soon.

"But of course," noted Hank with a wink. "Only you smell that deliciously sweet, yet deadly at the same time."

Tasha's smirk widened. "It's good to see you again."

Hank just nodded to accept the comment while Flint seemed to finally collect himself. "So what brings you all the way out here to the X-mansion and on a Thursday of all things?"

The blue mutant answered, "As the President is out of the country for several days, I had some spare time on my hands. Charles asked me to stop by because of you, actually."

"Me?" squeaked Flint in surprise. He hoped he hadn't done something idiotic lately, which was always a possibility.

Tasha just smirked as if she'd developed psychic powers of her own and had read his mind. "What did he do this time?" She had a sharp look on her face which indicated that she hoped it would be something juicy.

Knowing her intentions, Hank just laughed. He said, "Not for anything exciting, I'm afraid. You see, Flint here managed to procure some information for the X-men; from your former colleagues, I believe. The Professor hoped I could make sense of the data if I managed to secure some free time. Thus, here I am."

The Black Widow nodded while Flint asked, "Any luck?"

"Actually, I've had some limited success. After cross-referencing the two databases together, there are 116 mutants that were on the SHIELD one but not on the files you recovered. I created an algorithm which has been searching through other extensive databases. My belief is that if the mutant or mutants of concern to Magneto were on those other systems, the Brotherhood would have hit them two." Both Flint and Natasha agreed with his logical reasoning.

"Makes sense," Flint said with a nod to himself.

Hank continued with, "My algorithm cut the number of mutants down to less than a quarter. I was also able to discount seventeen of them because they were discovered after the foiled destruction attempt, thus they wouldn't have been on the list in the first place," expanded Hank as he almost tiredly polished his glasses.

"Man, you've been busy," noted Flint.

Hank's lips quirked into a small smile. "That I have, that I certainly have. Anyway, this is the remaining eleven files." He gestured to the screen and both Flint and Natasha moved closer to have a look.

It took Flint the briefest of glances to work it out the intended targets of the sabotage. "Ah," he noted.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him while Hank cocked his head. When it became clear that Flint was lost in his own thoughts, the blue mutant prompted, "Well?"

The archer blinked and flushed a little as he snapped back to reality. "They look a little worse for wear in those mugshots, but those two are our replacements." He pointed at the man and woman who were just recently added to the Avengers' roster.

"Oh my stars and garters," noted Hank in surprise. "You are absolutely correct. I should have seen it..." he said before he started muttering to himself.

Flint ignored the babbling mutant and turned to face his friend. "I wonder why Magneto is trying to erase the previous identities of the Red Witch and Quicksilver."

"Scarlet Witch," the Black Widow corrected automatically as she intently scanned the two images that Hank had enlarged to fit the screen. "Their father," she stated with certainty.

Her stern tone startled Hank out of his mutterings. "Their father is dead, the mother too. The Maximoff's were gypsies."

Tasha continued to glare at the screen. "I'm not sure how but their father is directly involved."

Flint's eyebrows narrowed. It was always a strange thing to see but sometimes she did this weird thing where the Black Widow would somehow divine the weakness of the person she was interrogating. This was the first time that she'd done so from mere pictures. Usually she'd relate some sort of visual tell that she'd seen during her 'interview' but clearly that was not the case this time. "How do you know, Tasha?"

The Black Widow stood perfectly still for almost a full minute and it was clear to the other two occupants of the room that she was waging some sort of internal battle, despite the fact that her expression never wavered. Eventually she said, "You're not going to like this, Clint."

The man in question would have automatically corrected her use of his real name but he had a feeling that this was much more important than such trivialities. "Well, now I have to know."

Tasha bowed her head for a moment before she lifted it and heaved a deep, calming breath. "Trust me when I say that no one, not even Fury himself knows this. If you dare tell anyone, I will kill you myself; friendship or not." She looked intently at Flint who merely nodded to show his understanding of the threat.

"Would you prefer if I stepped outside for a moment," asked Hank politely as he stood up from the chair he'd been seated in.

"No," decided Natasha after a little bit. "If you know, then Xavier will believe your word without question but I can keep this between the three of us. I'd prefer that the telepath does not know."

"Alright," agreed the mutant but he moved to stand next to Flint instead of resuming his seat.

The Black Widow steeled herself and actually projected her discomfort with the situation by agitatedly running her hand through her hair. "I'm..." she started but her mouth shut and she seemed to struggle with opening it again. The next words came out in a rush, as if the only way they could be uttered was if she spat them out like a poison. "I'm a mutant."

The silence around the room was palpable. To fill the void, Tasha started to explain. "At first, I thought it was part of the conditioning from the Red Room. Whenever I look at someone, I see words and arrows around them. The arrows point to physical weaknesses and the words explain psychological ones. That's how I've always been able to hit the right spot in an interrogation, getting more information out of them. I never stumbled upon the right words to say, I already knew their weaknesses. It explained why I was always chosen for cross-examinations over other, more experienced interrogators."

Flint appeared to be in shock, so Beast asked, "So how was this information kept the entirety of SHIELD?"

Natasha gave a half-smile and clarified, "As a part of the Red Room conditioning process, I was physically altered so I would not be detectable by DNA scanners thus SHIELD and myself never even suspected my true status. You could scan me electronically or even take a blood/DNA sample and it would come back as negative. Only some small indicators hidden well within the helix of my DNA show the signs of the tampering that my genetic code was subject to. I only discovered it for myself when I hacked into some cold files in Russia and corroborated the evidence afterwards."

"So what you're really saying is that you've been lying to me for years?" seethed Flint in a soft, venom-filled voice.

What little expression that was on Tasha's face disappeared immediately. "It's not that I didn't want you to know, Clint, but I have never..." she started to explain but stopped as Flint turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without a backwards glance. It felt like his heart had been ripped in two. No matter the reasons, she'd been lying to him since as long as she'd known him. It blindsided him much like Coulson's betrayal had. Why was it that the two people he'd trusted more than anything had both stabbed him in the back?

As Flint was waiting in the elevator to get back to the ground floor of the X-mansion, he realised that he needed to get out of the mansion for a while. Maybe for the day or something. Sure he could talk to Xavier about it but then he'd probably let the secret slip and even though he felt like she'd gutted him by keeping such an important secret to herself, he didn't want to betray her trust. Which was ridiculous really, since she clearly didn't trust him to the same extent.

The ding of the elevator brought his attention back to the present and the archer stole back to his room. He grabbed his wallet, phone and keys before stopping by Xavier's office to let the bald man know that he was heading out for the rest of the day and probably wouldn't return until the next day. Just as he was about to head to the garage, he made a snap decision. He returned to his room and snatched up his man-bag before slipping into his car and tearing out onto the road.

"JARV?" he said in a shaky voice, knowing that the artificial intelligence was always listening, whether he wanted him to be or not.

JARVIS must have been able to tell that he was pretty distressed and merely replied, "Yes, Mr Robertson?"

"Is Tony free at all today?" Flint asked as he headed toward Manhattan.

"He's currently in a meeting but will be finished by the time you get to Avenger's Tower, if that is indeed your intention," the intuitive program answered.

"Yeah. It is. I need a friendly face right now," said the man forlornly. He could feel tears starting to well in his eyes but willed them away since they would both hamper his driving and cause his guyliner to run, both of which were unacceptable.

There was a brief silence before JARVIS said, "I've blocked out the rest of Sir's afternoon and informed Ms Potts that he will be unavailable for the rest of the day. I will let him (and him alone) know that you will meet him in his workshop. I assume that you will not be entering via the front door but I'm sure from your many hours of experience within the ventilation system, that you remember the way."

Flint did.

By the time the archer had infiltrated the Avengers headquarters (for the second time in two weeks) and scaled the vertical shafts to Tony's workshop, he was drenched in sweat and in serious need of a drink. When he plopped down from the ceiling behind the billionaire, who was (as always) rapidly tapping on his excessively large computer system, he flopped onto the floor and sighed with relief. Despite Wolverine's painful morning sessions, climbing was one of the skills that was barely practiced. His arms were bound to be sore for days after that workout.

Tony turned around and the flippant greeting that he was about to give died on his lips when he spotted his former colleague. He was on his feet almost immediately and pressed a water bottle into his friend's hand.

Flint gratefully guzzled the water down as Tony all but carried him to an alcove he'd never seen before. Granted, he'd never really been allowed in Tony's lair before since the second time he'd snuck in, he'd almost blown the place up. Consequently, he'd been banned. The alcove contained a small shower and he took advantage of the cool water pretty much immediately.

"You're lucky that I couldn't care less about the fact that you're all wet and naked, and that we're all alone," said Tony with a suggestive eyebrow wriggle, speaking up for the first time as he started to rifle through a nearby drawer. He extracted a Black Sabbath tee and a pair of jeans for his comrade. Since they were both a little shorter than average, they were roughly the same clothes size.

Despite his exhaustion, Flint couldn't help but laugh at the man. "Please, everyone knows that the more you drink, the less clothes you wear. If anyone shouldn't care about nudity, it's you."

Tony gave him a grin as he placed the clothes and a fresh towel he'd also procured on a bulkhead near the alcove.

Flint finished up in the shower, dried off and gratefully donned the outfit. He quite liked the t-shirt and since it was black he asked, "Hey Tony, mind if I keep this?" He grabbed the material at the front so the billionaire knew what he was talking about.

The philanthropist just snorted. "Sure. JARVIS automatically buys me replacement ones for all my favourites since they often get destroyed by grease or supervillains."

"Of course," agreed JARV. "I already have it on order and it will arrive at the mansion tomorrow morning."

Flint couldn't help but shake his head. If only the media knew how generous the philanthropist truly was, they'd all die of shock.

"Actually JARVIS," added Tony with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Yes Sir," the artificial intelligence said stiffly.

"Give him the works and send it to the X-base on me, yeah?"

"Naturally, Sir. Done."

Flint was a bit mystified but shook his head and focussed on more important matters. "Thanks for taking the time to see me, Tony."

The billionaire snorted, "For my favourite archer (who I never get to see anymore) anytime."

"Pfft," spat Flint with amusement. "What the hell are you talking about? I saw you just last week!"

"I used to see you every day. Once in three weeks in not enough," argued Tony, although it was clear that he wasn't actually angry about it. "I miss my Katniss."

Flint rolled his eyes but couldn't help feeling amused. Truth be told, he missed the inventor too.

"Anyway," said Stark. "What brings you all the way here today? I don't think Agent or Spangles have done anything questionable recently. Plus, I haven't done anything to them either..." There was an ugly look on his face when he brought up the pair. He'd been less than impressed with them and blamed them wholeheartedly for causing his friend to fly the coop. "...although I really wanted to," he mumbled in the end.

"It's not them at all and thanks, by the way, Tony. You need to be able to work with them so don't let my issues get in the way of that," pleaded Flint. It was true. Just because Coulson and Rogers had literally fucked him over, he didn't want to alienate the others on the team from them, no matter how spiteful he was feeling.

Tony's expression hardened. "Don't you worry, my little Tweet-Tweet. If I exact revenge, it will be for my own misgivings and I'll act it out on my own terms, no matter the original motivation. So, who's got your purple panties in a bunch?"

"THAT WAS YOU!" screeched the ex-Avenger with a half-angry half-horrified look on his face. After a moment, he calmed down and muttered, "I should have known."

"Yeah," agreed the billionaire.

Flint shot him a furious look. "I thought it was Tasha! She almost killed me when I accused her of stealing all my underwear and leaving me with five sets of purple panties. I was lucky to escape with my life."

Tony couldn't sympathise at that point because he'd practically fallen over with laughter. It took a long time for him to end his mirth and Flint even managed to chuckle along with him before the smile slid from his face.

"It's her actually," Flint said when Tony finally collected himself. When the inventor indicated that he'd heard, the archer added. "She lied to me."

Quirking an eyebrow, the Stark Industries owner couldn't help but quip, "She's the world's greatest spy. Lying is what she does best."

"Not to me," disagreed Flint. "We don't keep secrets from each other." It was true. They hadn't, with this one painful exception.

"It must be one hell of a doozy if it's got you in this much of a snit," noted Stark more to himself than Flint. The archer merely nodded in response.

A strong silence settled around the room as the two men both got a little lost in their own thoughts. Flint still couldn't believe that Tasha would keep this from him! She knew he wouldn't have given stuff if she were a mutant or not but by keeping it from him like this, it made him wonder what else she might have been keeping to herself over the years and the strong trust they'd worked so hard to cultivate between them was rapidly slipping away.

"Hey Tony," said Flint as an idea occurred to him. "Do you still have Tasha's medial files on record?"

The genius blinked a couple of times and wordlessly brought them up on his holographic display.

"Can you zoom in on her DNA?" Flint asked and almost immediately, a large double helix of DNA started to slowly rotate in the middle of the room from the floor to the ceiling.

"What are you looking for?" asked Tony, the perplexed tone more than evident.

Flint scanned the molecules and atoms in front of him, knowing full well that he could be looking at a pizza for all he knew. "Anything abnormal."

Tony looked over the DNA strand but shrugged his shoulders. "It looks fine to me but you know me - I'm a master of technology. This is more Brucey's domain."

That was true. Despite how his original doctorate was in the field of physics, after the accident that infused him with the Hulk, Bruce Banner had studied a lot of biology. He hoped to cure his condition. If anyone could spot abnormalities in Tasha's DNA, it would be him.

As if he'd read his mind (and what was it with people doing that lately?) Tony suggested he bring the other scientist in and Flint agreed; partly for the man's knowledge but also because he missed the man's calming presence.

"Mr Banner is on his way," JARVIS announced.

"And you kept Merida's presence a surprise?" questioned Tony.

Flint could tell that if JARV was human, he would have rolled his eyes here. "And spoil your fun, Sir? Never."

Tony beamed. Whether it was due to the fact that his surprise was still intact or proud that his AI was super sassy was unclear. Flint decided that it was probably a combination of the two when he wasn't too busy worrying that the mild-mannered man might hulk out in shock at Tony's 'surprise'. His concern was misplaced because as soon as the man spotted him, a small grin graced his face and he walked over to warmly shake his hand.

"Clint! It's so good to see you again," the scientist said brightly.

"You too, Bruce," agreed Flint.

The doctor turned to say something to Tony but was distracted by the large holographic DNA strand that was still slowly rotating in the middle of the room. He approached it and displayed how adept he'd become at using Tony's technology because he was swiping and waving his hands about, artfully causing the DNA helix to dance. Well, that's what it looked like it was doing to Flint, at any rate.

Bruce made several noises ranging from interested to dissatisfied before he basically purred with contentment. "There are abnormalities in this sample," he noted with satisfaction. "I assume that this is what you wanted me to look at, yes?"

Tony nodded his head while Flint asked, "What abnormalities?"

Bruce flicked his hands a couple more times and enhanced a small portion of the DNA. This was a little easier to see for the archer than the large technicoloured mass of before. Especially now that it was no longer in motion; he'd been starting to feel a little queasy as it continuously spun on the spot.

Bruce tapped a few points in the air and five of the fifteen little orbs glowed. They appeared to be white, unlike the blue and black globes around them. "These five atoms should be Hydrogen in a regular version of adenine but they're not. Ordinarily, I would not have noticed any difference but Tony's system always colour-codes Hydrogen as red. As you can clearly see, these ones are white."

"So what are you getting at, Brucey my man?" asked Tony with confusion as he stared at the floating DNA strand. "Is it alien or something?"

Bruce just chuckled for a moment, ignoring the alarmed look on his friend's face. "No," he eventually stated while the billionaire let out a large sigh of relief. The doctor refocussed his attention back onto the strand for a bit before deciding, "If anything, this indicates that the subject underwent a tremendously torturous genetic resequencing process."

Tony rolled his eyes. "So what you're really saying is that someone manually altered the DNA. Why?"

It was Bruce's turn to roll his eyes. "Humans have no reason to undergo such treatments unnecessarily so I surmise that this sample was taken from a mutant who had been modified to pass as human."

"THE BLACK WIDOW IS A MUTANT?" yelled Stark in complete surprise, before he turned his furious gaze back to Flint. "You knew?"

Flint couldn't help but snort. "I only found out today. Gimme a break, Stark."

"This is Natasha's?" asked Bruce at the same time as Tony yelled, "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

Nodding in the doctor's direction, Flint shrugged at Tony and answered, "She said she'd kill me if I told anyone." He saw the grave looks both men sported and couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction. At least they both knew she'd follow through with a threat like that. "I didn't break my word, Bruce figured it out for himself."

"So that's why you were a complete mess when you got here," noted Tony absently, more to himself than anything.

"Yeah," agreed the ex-Avenger quietly. He tilted his head and looked at the philanthropist. "Do you mind if I stay the night?"

"No worries, Little Bow Peep."


	23. Actual X-emplification

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty-three - Actual X-emplification_

Flint had a blast staying in Tony's workshop with the two Science Bros (as Tony had dubbed them a long time ago). They'd caught up on gossip from the last few weeks and even watched the latest James Bond movie which JARVIS projected onto a wall. The philanthropist made the mistake of getting Dummy to make the popcorn; it ended up barbequed and subsequently thrown around the room. Naturally, every piece Flint tossed ruthlessly found its target which endlessly frustrated Tony.

It wasn't until Bruce left, claiming that he needed to get some real work done, that Flint's cell phone started to ring. "Hello?" he warily asked. There were only four people he'd given his number to and one of them was Natasha. He didn't want to talk to her right now. Thankfully, the caller wasn't her. "Good evening, Flint," answered Xavier's smooth voice.

Because he was feeling lazy and there was only Tony (and by extension JARVIS) around, he put the call on speaker. He dropped the handset near his head as he sprawled over the blanket-strewn floor of the workshop. "Hey, what can I do for you Uncle Charlie?"

"You're sounding remarkably calmer. I can hear that your time away has been most beneficial," said the professor.

That piqued Flint's interest. "And you just avoided my question. You're going to ask something uncomfortable or inappropriate of me, aren't you?"

At the mere mention of the word inappropriate, Tony glued himself to Flint's side on the floor and rested his head on the man's shoulder. The archer rolled his eyes at his friend's antics.

Xavier let out a little cough, which Flint was practically certain covered a sigh. "Yes, Littleflint. I have a morally grey question to ask you. I was wondering if there might be any way you could covertly contact the Avengers."

"And what would you need to talk to us about?" answered Tony, causing Flint to face palm loudly with a sharp, "Tony!" thrown in for good measure.

Xavier appeared to be taken aback by the unexpected voice. "Good evening, Mr St..."

"Yeah, yeah, you already greeted us," Tony said as he merrily talked over the founder of the X-men, causing Flint to cringe. Interrupting Xavier seemed as awful as kicking a puppy or stealing from a Christmas tree. Undeterred, Tony asked, "What do you need?"

There was a brief silence over the line before Xavier plainly asked, "I was hoping that you might consent share some DNA samples of your two latest recruits."

This time Tony did frown. "They already said they were mutants. Announced it television and all, didn't they?"

"That's not why I'm collecting their medical information, Mr Stark," said Xavier.

"Then why?" asked Tony with equal parts of interest and wariness.

Xavier sighed. "We have reason to believe that your two latest teammates may have ties to the Brotherhood of Mutants."

"That's Magneto's mighty mob of miscreants, right?" asked the billionaire.

"Yes and excellent alliteration, by the way," affirmed Xavier.

"Naturally." Tony looked speculatively at Flint. "I assume you wouldn't ask Clint something which you admitted yourself to be 'morally grey' without a damn good reason, correct?"

"Of course," the telepath all but spat out in a voice closest to indignant anger that Flint had heard from the man yet.

"Then I'll give it to Hawkeye and he can bring it to you tomorrow. He can't tonight, we're having a sleepover, you know?" And just like that, Tony was back to his usual cheerful self.

Flint could practically see Xavier's amused expression through the phone. "Well then, on behalf of the X-men, thank you and sweet dreams, gentlemen."

Tony stumbled to his feet before retreating to his impressive computer system. He downloaded the medical information immediately so he wouldn't forget. Flint suspected that he didn't want to anger a telepath who had the power to make him think he was a tomato. When the genius returned, he slipped the archer a thumb drive which was hastily tucked into the man's pocket.

Strangely enough, he and Tony had a meaningful heart to heart that didn't involve alcohol around three in the morning and both realised that Natasha being a mutant wasn't really that much of a problem. In fact, it was more of an asset. It was through her passive power that they'd managed to successfully wrangle information from even the most hardened of villains. By four, they were both so surprised that the concept had never occurred to them before. Thus, Flint and Tony's only real bother with the situation was that they were now the only non-enhanced humans that had been on the Avengers team.

Flint drove back to the X-mansion early the next morning, feeling much lighter about the situation. He was still rather pissed with Natasha but no longer felt completely betrayed. With the way he'd clearly overreacted, he wouldn't have told himself either.

The archer's first stop was Xavier's office but he was sent straight from there to the lab in the basement. Apparently, Beast had spent the night at the mansion but was already awake and trying to track down any possible leads on the newest Avengers' father. Flint passed on the DNA files and apologised to the mutant for acting like an ass the day before. The blue mutant pointed out that he was hardly the person who deserved them before shooing him out so he could work in peace.

Despite the clear message from Hank, Flint didn't feel ready to face the Black Widow yet so he instead headed to the cafeteria for some breakfast and was delighted to discover that there were pancakes on offer. Even better, by the time he'd loaded up his plate, he noticed a free seat next to Петр and pounced on it like lion on a nearby gazelle.

"Morning, Петр," the archer greeted cheerfully to the pleased Russian. A quick glance around the table showed that only the man himself held a happy disposition. The others appeared to be quite angry. Julian was sending the death glare that was usually reserved for Monet his way while an equally pissed Jubes tried to murder him with her eyes alone. Victor was unusually serious while the last occupant was the worst of all. Of course, he just had to sit at the same table as Tasha, didn't he? His tunnel vision for the male Russian must be pretty much absolute if he missed such an obvious detail like that. "Mornin' everyone else and, er, Natasha." So much for avoiding his friend. Her blank look was far more terrifying than any other glower from around the table.

It was Jubilee (surprise, surprise) who was the first to break the extremely uncomfortable silence that had appeared after Flint's awkward greetings. "Okay. I may be going out on a fucking limb here but seriously. What... the... hell?" Her fingers twitched and a few small paffs of green and blue sparked around them. "I thought we were tight, Biceps. I mean, really tight. So why didn't you tell me that the Bl... I mean, your friend," the woman spat out harshly, "was here? You know how much I like, wanted to meet her and stuff..." she trailed off. Flint read between the lines and realised she was less mad at him than he'd originally thought. She just would have preferred a little warning so she could have made a better first impression. At least that seemed like it was repairable, although a pissy Jubes was never a good thing.

"Hey, sorry Jubblies," smirked Flint, remembering Tony's pet name for her and despite the firecracker's best intentions, she couldn't help but grin momentarily before ruthlessly donning her angry face again. "I only found out about her visit that morning and then had to practically beg to get her to stay."

Rolling her eyes, Jubilee just growled and Flint was eerily reminded of Wolverine. Perhaps his supposed like of her was mutual and she'd picked up a few of the feral man's less lethal characteristics.

Now that Flint was certain that he had placated one of his tablemates, he turned his attention to the others. Julian was still glaring heavily but he realised that it wasn't actually aimed at him. The teen was giving Петр the stink eye. Victor on the other hand was evenly staring between Flint and Julian. The archer's sharp eyes caught that the green guy's expression would soften slightly when he'd glance at Julian and then harden when they turned his way. Of course, he was only fascinated by the exchange because otherwise, he'd have to focus upon Tasha and he didn't feel comfortable doing so yet. Instead, he scarfed down his food and hastily left the table with Петр following quickly in his wake.

"Well that was all sorts of awkward," noted Петр pleasantly as he companionably placed a warm hand on Flint's shoulder.

The ex-Avenger couldn't help but lean slightly into the strong hold. It felt wonderful. "Yeah," he added. "That's for sure. I didn't think I'd managed to piss off that many people all at once without trying before."

"Perhaps it's just another aspect of your mutation, _Красивый_," the Russian cheekily replied.

Flint snorted. "Yeah, not so much." He was distracted as Xavier's telepathic voice caught his attention.

_Flint, you have few packages that were just delivered. They're sitting in the hall when you're ready to pick them up._

After psychically thanking the telepath for the information, Flint asked Петр if he could lend a hand. The mutant quickly agreed and he was very glad he'd done so. When he reached the hall, he realised that the few packages were not only much more than a mere few (eleven in total) but they were rather huge as well. Петр armoured up and was easily able to heft four at once while Flint could only carry two. They weren't really that heavy, just bulky.

They managed it in two trips and soon Flint's curiosity won out. He opened the largest box only to fall under an avalanche of shirts. He'd forgotten that Tony had arranged for him to receive 'the works' and now realised that he must now have one of every shirt the billionaire favoured. Apparently, he liked a lot of them.

Петр helped Flint to hang them all up in his cupboard and even consented to hunt down some extra coat hangers when they ran out. The latter could only marvel at the billionaire's generosity. Yeah, Tony was definitely a great man, although he'd have to make sure he never said so in the man's presence or the philanthropist would never let him forget it.

As Петр took the time to start breaking down the boxes, Flint crept up behind him and hugged him gently from behind. "_Спасибо_, _Петр_ (_Thanks_, _Piotr_)," he whispered in his ear (although he had to stand on his toes to reach that high up). The Russian stilled and the ex-Avenger felt the man shiver in his arms.

Петр turned and returned the hug, wrapping his strong arms all the way around the ex-Avenger. "_Добро пожаловать_, __Д_рагоценные_ (_You__'__re __welcome_, _Precious_)." If Flint hadn't already felt like putty in the man's arms, he would have right then and there. Without even consciously considering it, he claimed the man's lips with his own. The strong and slightly chapped lips started moving against his almost immediately and the archer couldn't help but moan with appreciation.

The Russian tightened his hold and instead of feeling like a caged animal, like he normally would have with Coulson, he felt safe. It was strange how his survival instincts were still dominant with his previous lover but were suspiciously absent around Петр. Perhaps this was that stupid chemistry thing that Tony liked to waffle on about. Flint had never really noticed it before but then most of his previously liaisons (excluding Coulson) were just unimportant flings so he hadn't really had a basis for comparison before. Any and all thoughts of chemistry, physics and anything else science-y related was pushed from his mind as Петр's mouth opened to admit him.

Flint couldn't help but enjoy the Russian's taste. It was almost painfully minty fresh which shouldn't have been the case since they'd just eaten breakfast. There was also a hint of honey and a bit of something spicy under the surface. Flint's tongue ruthlessly explored the cavern as he tried to sample everything currently on offer.

After standing idly by and allowing his mouth to be thoroughly plundered, Петр then took charge of the kiss and if Flint wasn't already in dire need of oxygen, his remaining breath would have been taken away. The man's movements were methodical as his tongue traced its way around his mouth, leaving a wet, hot trail of sparks in its wake.

Unfortunately, the need to breathe asserted itself and the Russian disengaged from the snog with a slight moan that only made Flint want to resume their activities without delay. The next thing the archer knew, he was being pushed solidly into his bed with the comforting weight of Петр above him.

They continued to exchange extremely wet kisses with great fervour and were soon unable to stop themselves form moving with each other. The friction between them was sinfully delicious and Flint couldn't even begin to work out when he'd last been this painfully hard.

_Attention all X-men - report to the War Room immediately_ came Xavier's not-so-calm order. That was enough to completely ruin the mood and Петр was back on his feet almost immediately. Well, trust Uncle Charlie to be the biggest cock-blocker on the planet.

Flint did take pride in the fact that the Russian was visibly panting (although he knew he was probably no better himself) and the very sight almost had the archer ripping off his clothes and throwing himself at the man all over again, X-men be damned.

"We, er," started Петр huskily before he cleared his throat. "We'd better get down there, _да_?"

Flint couldn't help but sigh. "Yeah, we really should." What he didn't expect was how intense the complete disappointment that coursed through his system was. The Russian held his hand out and hauled him to his feet. He glanced back at the man's face and couldn't help but smirk. At least the man looked thoroughly snogged. There was little doubt that the other X-men would probably pick up on it quickly and he couldn't help but feel a tremendous sense of satisfaction at that.

They walked together and were soon entering the extremely full War Room. Flint's eyes took in the occupants and he was pleased to note that Tasha was absent from the room. He wouldn't have been surprised if she volunteered to help but it would have raised all sorts of inconvenient questions about the both of them.

Scott was already up the front and called the occupants to silence almost immediately after they entered. At least he wasn't getting glared at by him for a change, it just seemed to be everyone else that was pissed off with him. "This time the Clubs are out. So my team, move out." The stern leader strode purposefully from the room without a backward glance, his teammates following quickly behind him.

Storm then moved to where Scott had been moments before. Flint had almost forgotten that she was the secondary leader of the X-men in Summers' stead. "The Brotherhood are at it again," she stated in her calm, unruffled tone. "Unlike last time, they are working as one unit. Diamonds, you're in Blackbird one. Spades will fly two and Hearts get the third. I'll brief us en route."

Flint moved to follow the white-haired woman but a hand on his shoulder stilled him. "Be careful, _моя __любовь_ (_my love_)," the Russian gently said.

"You too," replied Flint as he tried to slow his racing heart. Did the man already feel some sort of love for him? This soon? Flint knew he felt something for the man and it seemed to be stronger than his feelings for Coulson already but didn't really know what it was yet. It was all too soon to be considering that though, surely?

Soon Flint was considering the Russian's words from about 38 thousand feet and was only brought back to himself when Storm started briefing the X-men on the Brotherhood's attack. Apparently they were causing major damage to Times Square and all but Magneto himself were currently in attendance.

The Spades were stuck on crowd control. Storm got M to fly him up high so he could both keep an eye out for civilians and provide ranged support when necessary. The archer wanted to laugh; it was exactly what he used to do for his previous team.

Flint called out plays when necessary and enjoyed the fact that his orders were followed pretty much to the letter and without any complaints. It was still sort of weird though. He was in the middle of throwing a couple more disks when he saw something that he should have expected in Midtown Manhattan but was still surprised to witness. "Head's up, guys. Iron Man and Thor are flying our way."

"We hath come to aid you in besting these fiends," roared the God of Thunder as he launched himself (Mjölnir first) at the Juggernaut, only to ricochet off. Iron Man soared right past Flint with a small salute and started firing his repulsors at Arclight.

Flint continued his job until he spotted Cap's distinctive shield bouncing around the street. Damn, he'd hoped the other Avengers wouldn't be there. He also spied the two latest Avengers pummelling the Brotherhood along with their allies. What he did notice a couple of times (and he probably would have missed it if he hadn't been looking specifically for it) were a few small looks being exchanged between Quicksilver, the Scarlet Witch and Psylocke (who was actually Mystique in disguise, since the purple haired ninja was a part of Scott's team). There was definitely something fishy about the two new Avengers.

The sound of leather rubbing against rope dragged Flint's attention back to the present. He whirled around and saw a brunette woman rappelling from a familiar black helicopter. "SHIELD are here too," he noted to the X-men. His sharp eyes didn't miss the fact that the woman had a quiver strapped to her back and he couldn't help but feel slightly intrigued.

When the woman's boots thudded mere metres from him, she announced, "I'm Agent Bishop. I will take it from here."

Flint couldn't help but snort at the woman who appeared to be no older than seventeen. "Sorry sweetheart but I don't answer to SHIELD and certainly not to you." He threw a couple of smokescreen discs at a few Multiple Man clones to help out Anole, who was being swarmed by the identical men.

Agent Bishop was soon by his side and firing all sorts of trick arrows down on the fight. He was impressed with her accuracy, which was a sentiment she returned as they stonily complimented each other. They also worked surprisingly well in tandem.

The fight was soon wrapped up due to SHIELD and the Avenger's timely intervention but unfortunately, the Brotherhood somehow managed to escape courtesy of a pink-skinned mutant in a green dress that randomly appeared. She threw some sort of energy weapons at her colleagues and as soon as the pink objects touched them, they disappeared.

"Well that was anticlimactic," noted Agent Bishop bluntly.

"That's for sure," he agreed before cheekily adding, "Hey, I thought Hawkeye was a man. Did Loki gender-swap you or something?" It took all his willpower not to laugh in the woman's face as he watched her left eye twitch through her purple sunglasses. She was clearly beyond pissed.

"In case you missed the introduction earlier, I am Agent Bishop, not Barton. I am not and will never be a ma. However, I am being trained as a replacement in case Hawkeye is killed in action." She held a hand to her ear before adding, "That's my cue. See you around, er, who are you anyway?"

"Flicker," answered Flint. He hoped he hid his shock successfully. He shouldn't have been surprised that Fury was training up an auxiliary recruit but he was. With any luck, that meant the one-eyed man was starting to get used to the idea that Agent Barton was never going back to SHIELD.

"Pleasure," Bishop said without enthusiasm as she unerringly grabbed a cable behind her that was once again lowered from the SHIELD helicopter. She started to climb the rope as the chopper flew off.

"Your carriage awaits," said Monet from the side of the building with a smirk and she flew him down to join the rest of the X-men. Unfortunately, the Avengers were not as quick to leave as Agent Bishop and for the first time in ages, Flint saw Captain America close up again. It was not a view he'd missed.

"Thank you for the assistance," Storm stated formally with a small smile.

"No probelmo," chirped Tony, his faceplate already up. He glanced around the X-men and grinned when he spotted Flint. "Although I don't think you needed any help from us."

"You're too kind," Jean added with a wry grin.

"Report," came the jarringly familiar voice of Coulson from behind the archer and it took all of Flint's willpower not to stand to attention immediately, like he used to for his ex. The agent walked to stand exceedingly close to the Captain and it was Monet's psychic voice that kept him from exposing himself to his former handler by doing something stupid.

_You were in love with that? Seriously? I thought you'd have better taste in men._

Flint could have kissed her. He'd been ready to march right up to the man and punch him in the face. He hadn't realised how angry he'd been with him for the way he'd been treated until he saw him in the flesh. Instead of physically expressing his anger, he answered M. _Yeah, what the hell was I thinking? _He looked over to the French woman whose eyes were glinting malevolently at him.

_From the way a certain Russian man's mouth looked like it had been mauled by a very enthusiastic lover, I'd say your taste has improved remarkably._

Declining to comment, Flint still blushed a light red and was forced to suffer through Monet's telepathic laughter for quite a while.

"You have some new members," noted Coulson with mild interest. Flint was not fooled by his tone, he knew the man was soaking in their appearances and perceived powers like a sponge. Thankfully, the man only cursorily looked him over. His secret must still be safe. In fact, the SHIELD agent seemed much more intrigued with Mercury than himself.

"Yes," agreed Storm without elaborating. "Anyway, we must be getting back. I'm sure we'll meet again." She turned and called her team to follow. Flint walked beside Monet, who continued to chuckle at him on the psychic plane.

Soon enough, all the X-men were reassembled in the War Room of the X-mansion, this time with Xavier and Beast in attendance. The usual post-mission review occurred before Xavier took over the meeting. "I was wondering if anyone noticed the newest Avengers acting oddly, at all."

There was a silence at the question but Flint broke it. "Yeah, they were giving the Brotherhood a couple of strange looks, especially with Mystique but I only noticed because I was looking for it."

Xavier nodded his head. "Yes. I thought you might." The telepath looked around the room. "I managed to procure some rather interesting information from a source within the Avengers themselves."

"Y'all coulda just asked 'em ten minutes ago," drawled Rogue. "We just fought alongside 'em."

"While your premise is correct," agreed Beast, "the information in question was obtained before the altercation. After carefully reviewing their medical history and cross-referencing it with our extensive database, I have determined that their connection to the Brotherhood is purely genealogical."

_Speak English_,_ man_, Jono projected, which amused Flint no end since the man's telepathic voice already held a strong British accent.

Hank rolled his eyes and sighed. "Magneto is their father."

There was another large silence which was broken by Bobby. "Star Wars did the whole 'I am your father' thing better."

Just like that, the intense mood was broken and laughter filtered around the room.

"I apologise for not having the stage presence worthy of George Lucas," noted Dr McCoy with a grin that displayed his sharp white teeth.

"I don't think we need to rush into any decisions regarding this just yet," said Xavier, bringing everyone's attention back to himself. "They made a move today and I doubt the next will occur anytime soon. Thank you for today. Go get some rest."

As Петр walked up to Flint with a wicked glint in his eyes, rest was the last thing the ex-Avenger had on his mind.


	24. Apologetic to X-cruciating

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty-four - Apologetic to X-cruciating_

To Flint's dismay, when he and Петр hid in the latter's room after the meeting to 'relax', they both agreed that they had taken things a bit too fast. Logically he understood and approved but deep down, all he wanted the Russian to do was bend him over and fuck him stupid. Of course, the hour long making out session more than made up for his disappointment.

When the archer returned to his room, he couldn't help but stare at the door opposite his own. He knew Natasha would be in there this late at night. Now that his anger had considerably cooled and he'd made peace with her confession, guilt had started creeping in. He should have reacted a hell of a lot better to her surprising news than he had.

Without stopping to consider the ramifications (because Flint was still thinking about how much of a colossal ass he'd been to his best friend), he entered the room without knocking and found himself instantly in a painful headlock. Unable to so much as move, let alone speak, he was ever so pleased when she released him after she realised who'd let themselves into her domain.

"You idiot," Natasha hissed at the man. "I almost killed you."

Flint would have given her some sort of sassy retort but he was too busy gasping for breath and massaging his somewhat crushed throat. It was true though, he should have known better than to not announce his presence to the assassin. While he flopped onto her bed, the woman got a glass of water from her bathroom and pressed it into his hand.

They sat in silence for a while as Flint sipped from the glass.

Tasha eyed the ex-Avenger thoughtfully. "You've been... busy."

Despite her neutral tone, Flint instantly knew what she was getting at and flushed. That earned him a raised eyebrow and a smothered grin as he was rarely prone to embarrassment. Any other day he would have bragged about his exploits but he wanted to keep his little rendezvous with Петр to himself for the time being. It was all still new and exciting. Plus, she didn't really know the other Russian yet and he dreaded the meeting, knowing that poor Петр wouldn't know what hit him.

"He must mean a lot to you," noted the superspy to herself. "More than certain other individuals I can think of."

It was true. Петр already had some sort of hold over Flint that Coulson never did. It was a little frightening actually. "Yeah," he hoarsely agreed before clearing his throat a couple of times. "Sorry, I should have knocked but my thoughts were elsewhere."

Tasha snorted. "Clearly," she agreed and smiled, although the archer detected a faint waver and a hint of uncertainty. It was then that he remembered his original purpose.

"Natasha, I'm so sorry," Flint said seriously. He made sure that he maintained constant eye-contact to show his sincerity. "I... I was an absolute prick when you needed support and instead I ran for it." The superspy nodded to accept his words but he felt he hadn't adequately expressed his feelings yet. "You deserved better and really, I don't care if you're a mutant. If you haven't already realised it, all of my new friends are mutants too." He gestured broadly around the room to show he meant the mansion at large. "It just means that my first mutant friend wasn't Xavier but you."

In a rare show of physical affection, Natasha pulled the archer into a warm hug. When she released her almost painfully strong hold on him, Flint's quick eyes spotted her swiping a tear away with her thumb. It made the ex-Avenger feel even worse about his ridiculously hurtful actions. This was the first time he'd seen her cry which wasn't a direct result of torture and it made him want to shrivel up and die for causing her such pain in the first place. "Thank you, Clint," she whispered.

Flint gave her a small grin and held out his arms. This time Tasha was enveloped by the archer and they silently enjoyed each other's presence for a while. When he did release her, he sighed heavily, causing the woman to become instantly alert. "I have a confession to make," he said.

"You told Stark about me," Natasha decided immediately.

"I did not!" Flint snapped immediately with a pout. The look slid from his face. "Well, not directly anyway. I hinted but since Bruce is the biology specialist..."

"BRUCE?" yelped Tasha in surprise.

It was exceedingly rare for the archer to legitimately shock his friend so he privately enjoyed the moment. "Tony called him down when I failed to elaborate as to why I wanted to look at your DNA."

"Stark has that on file?" the superspy asked with a thoughtful expression.

Flint rolled his eyes. "He's Tony, JARVIS has everything squirreled away somewhere." As he watched his friend's expression harden, he added, "Most likely with so many backups that even you couldn't find them all."

"How did they take it?" Natasha asked blank look that Flint assumed was probably concern.

Flint shrugged. "I don't know, I'm sure Tony just collected a glass you'd used or..."

Natasha rolled her eyes and cut him off. "Not that, you _придурок_ (_moron_). My m-mutant status."

The ex-Avenger noticed the slight tremor in his friend's voice and was once again reminded how difficult it must have been for her to admit in the first place. "Oh, that. Well Tony was like... Wait up, I'll be back in a moment," the ex-Avenger said before slipping into his room and grabbing his man-bag. JARVIS consented to play a recording of his conversation with Tony after his shower and they both laughed at the gobsmacked look on the billionaire's face when he realised that Tasha was indeed a mutant. Flint was still impressed with how calmly Bruce took the news but then he remembered that the man needed to almost constantly keep a hold on his emotions, lest the Hulk started emerging over trivial annoyances instead of world crises.

JARVIS then informed them that after Tony updated her medical file, he encrypted it so heavily that no one else would ever be able to crack it. The artificial intelligence also added, "Neither Sir nor Dr Banner have any intention of sharing you status, Ms Romanoff, with the rest of the Avengers (or anyone else, for that matter) and will not do so without you express perm..."

The screen came to life mid-sentence and Tony's face filled the screen. He looked extremely chipper. "Well, well, well. Look what the hawk dragged in." Both ex-SHIELD agents groaned at the awful introduction, which only caused the billionaire to laugh. When he got himself back under control, he added, "It's been way too long, Spider-Girl."

To Flint's surprise, Natasha just smiled. Well that was never a good sign and Tony seemed to reach the same conclusion as his grin dropped from his face. "Just remember that I know where you live and I have yet to find a security system that can keep me from killing my target."

Flint enjoyed watching the philanthropist pale before Tony regained his former pep. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm glad to see you're okay, even if the company you keep appears to be questionable." He ignored the archer's snort and added, "So you're a mutant. That's cool and all. You think I could borrow your services sometime?"

"What for?" asked Tasha suspiciously.

"Does your power only work on humans or on inanimate objects too?" questioned Tony in response.

"Only humans, or rather, beings of high intelligence," said Natasha. She leant forward to look closer at the billionaire on the small screen.

"Damn," cursed Tony. "I was hoping you'd be able to spot weaknesses in my newest armour."

Natasha shrugged. "Sorry Stark but the only weakness in your armour is the operator."

That caused Flint to laugh and Tony to sulk.

They ended up chatting for several hours and Tony even called Bruce down to his lab so the scientist could join in too. It was worth it for Flint to see the shock on the Gamma specialist's face when he saw the archer in his emo getup for the first time. It felt almost like old times but they eventually called it quits when it was nearing midnight.

Since it was Saturday the next morning, Flint decided to improve his standing with Jubilee by inviting the Chinese American woman and her friends shopping with him and Tasha (who didn't yet know of the excursion - he hoped the assassin wouldn't castrate him). The screech of excitement Jubes gave before running to her closet to find something suitable to wear was still ringing in his ears as he drove the two women plus Bobby and Kitty to the mall. Rogue had control of the other vehicle in their convoy with Jimmy, Julian, Victor and Monet in tow.

When they arrived, Bobby and Kitty headed off to a music store the former wanted to visit while Rogue and Jimmy left hand in hand for a clothing outlet. Flint couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy since Петр was tutoring some of his students and was denied the opportunity to be all coupley with his... er, what were they anyway? He didn't think they were boyfriends or anything official yet. Lovers? They certainly hadn't gone that far yet. Beaus? Snogging partners? Crushes? Well that one sounded the most juvenile of the lot so far.

Flint was brought out of his musings by a very painful elbow to his side. He glared at the green mutant responsible before waspishly asking, "What?"

It was Jubes who replied with an incredibly wide smirk, "We, like, totally asked you where you wanted to go first. Seven times. I wonder what, or rather whom, had you so intensely focussed away from the present," she all but crooned. She really could be a vindictive bitch sometimes; it was part of why Flint liked her so much.

"Like anyone has to guess that," muttered Julian snidely to himself, although everyone overheard him anyway. Jubilee and surprisingly Monet both started giggling while Victor looked on with confusion. Only Natasha's expression remained impassive as Flint blushed rather spectacularly.

To hopefully save her partner some embarrassment, Tasha distracted the younger X-men's attention with, "I only brought a few sets of clothes with me and could do with some more."

Jubilee's face morphed from mirth to unmitigated excitement almost immediately, which worried virtually everyone present. Flint could tell that even his best friend was at the very least slightly concerned. Only Monet appeared unruffled by the transformation.

"Have fun with that," said Victor with a grimace. "There's no way in hell that I'll be joining her when she's on a rampage." He glanced over at Julian. "D-do you want to head over to the music store or something?" he asked with a bit of a stutter.

The telekinetic agreed before he turned to Flint. "Wanna come with?"

Flint was a little confused by the note of excitement in his student's voice but focussed on answering the request. "Would you leave your best friend in Jubblies' care on a shopping spree unattended?" He ignored the firecracker's, "Hey!" as he watched Julian's face fall for a moment.

"Point taken," the mutant muttered before following a less than pleased Victor away from the others.

Already over her friend's quip, Jubes asked, "How about you Emmy? You gonna stick with us to?"

"Of course," agreed Monet, with a slight flick of her head. "Someone with actual fashion sense needs to help Natasha to not look like a complete imbecile."

"I have fashion sense!" growled the firecracker heatedly.

"Yes," agreed the Frenchwoman. "If you're referring to your complete lack thereof."

The two women argued all the way to the first store before they both started to throw clothes at Tasha.

Flint was surprised that the Black Widow allowed herself to be bossed around by the two young ladies but neither assassin had really cared about their civvies before, Natasha especially. Perhaps it was wise of the superspy to accept their aid no matter how irksome the trip became. As the hours dragged on, the redhead started to throw looks at him which plainly threatened bodily harm if he didn't put an end to this soon but he ignored them in favour of watching Jubilee make an absolute tit of herself.

In the beginning, the firecracker started by selecting clothes that were either far too revealing or two sizes too small for Natasha and tried to coax her into them. Then she started saying incredibly clichéd pick-up lines and making her intentions more transparent than Susan Storm. It was both incredibly amusing and absolutely horrifying (because he was worried that tomorrow, he'd probably stumble across her corpse).

Despite his disbelief at Jubilee's blatant flirting, Flint had to admit the Chinese American woman had balls. She already knew the true identity of 'Bicep's Bestie' and yet, she still shamelessly tried to grope the assassin at every possible opportunity. He was rather shocked that she actually succeeded in grazing Tasha's bosom once and naturally the firecracker had squealed like a toddler at Christmas. It was definitely something no one present had suspected to occur. All four of them knew that the assassin was always aware of her surroundings and had for some reason allowed the grope to occur anyway.

Eventually, the group reconvened with the others and trooped back to the mansion. Natasha had a large collection of new clothes with her and it reminded Flint of his first shopping trip with Jubilee and her entourage. It made him smile. Just like that time, the others helped the superspy to carry her large load of clothes to her room.

As they were finishing up, Flint heard Xavier's psychic voice in his head. _Flint, can you please bring your guest and personal computer to the War Room immediately?_

_Sure thing _the archer immediately replied. _Do need me or the both of us suited up?_

_Both would be preferable as this meeting will involve only the Senior X-men and they have surely discerned her true identity by now._

_Alrighty. We'll be down there soon_ Flint thought before turning his attention back to his immediate vicinity. He was still standing in Tasha's room but it was now devoid of all others bar his best friend. She stood rigidly and was staring intently at him. "Xavier needs me and hopes you'll come along."

"Civilian?" she asked sharply with a sharp look.

"Not unless you want to," shrugged the ex-Avenger before he left to change and grab his man-bag.

Mere moments later, the now uniformed pair reconvened in the hallway and sneaked down to the subbasement (lest any of the students spotted the Black Widow and did something stupid).

Xavier greeted them warmly and while they waited for the rest of the Senior X-men, he inquired, "Is it possible to securely patch in Mr Stark to this meeting?" There was a distinct emphasis placed on the word, securely.

Flint was about to answer but JARVIS spoke up first. "Sir is currently alone in his workshop." The ex-Avenger tried not to show his amusement when Summers almost fell out of his chair in shock but must have failed miserably if Jean's mental bitch-slap was anything to go by. There was a brief pause before the artificial intelligence said, "He has consented with your request."

The archer opened the hidden laptop and Tony's face popped into existence on the screen almost immediately. "Wow," the billionaire said as he glanced around the War Room from his viewpoint. "It certainly looks silvery down there."

Flint snorted, "As if your damn tower is any less futuristic."

"I don't know what you're implying, Robin Hood but..." started Tony.

The archer interrupted him with, "Even the waffle iron was sentient, Stark. A freaking waffle iron."

Tony shrugged unrepentantly. "You're just jealous because you left me all alone in my tower and have moved to the land of uninteresting kitchen appliances that don't make witty remarks over your inability to operate the toaster adequate..."

Flint interrupted the man again. "Normal toasters don't have forty-seven buttons on them and the microwave is bitchier than..."

"Gentlemen," interrupted Storm sternly, although Flint did note a small gleam of amusement in her eyes, "and I use the term loosely, if you would both stop arguing like an old married couple, I believe the professor would like to begin."

That shut the two men up immediately and they looked sheepishly at each other before focussing on Xavier.

"Thank you, Storm," said the professor with a grin.

"I thought they were never going to shut up," muttered Logan to Tasha.

"They're worse when they're drunk," shrugged the superspy in response, equally as quietly. Despite his slight embarrassment, Flint couldn't help but smirk at Wolverine's slight shudder at whatever mental image that comment had conjured.

"Let me begin," started Xavier, "by informing you, Mr Stark, about what we gleaned from the useful medical information you provided."

Tony eyed the bald mutant intently and for once shelved his lackadaisical demeanour.

"Beast managed to discover that Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch are Magneto's biological children." Xavier yelled, "Wait!" when it became clear that the philanthropist was about to armour up and attack his latest teammates. Tony froze on the spot, his head turning to look back at the screen. "We have no idea about Magneto's intentions. All he did was remove the connection between the children and himself. He could be cutting himself off from them if they're a disappointment to him because they want to be heroes."

"Or they could be planning some sort of inside attack," countered Tony, although he moved back toward the screen since his knee-jerk reaction was thankfully stopped.

"That is certainly true," agreed Xavier with palpable relief. "However, they are unaware that we already know of it."

"So we can come up with some contingencies," said Tony with understanding.

"Agreed. It would be foolish of us to heedlessly believe the newest Avengers' intentions, now that we know of their heritage," finished Xavier. "I was hoping that you may consent to collaborate with a few colleagues of ours next Tuesday at noon. Together we should easily be able to come up with and construct a couple of contingency plans."

"No worries," agreed the billionaire. "I'll get Pep to come up with some sort of stockholder-y excuse or something." His eyes turned to look at Flint and Tasha. "Anyway, I've been dying to visit your crib, my pretties. Get ready to crank out the alcohol!" He winked at the room at large before closing the connection.

There was a long silence after Flint's screen turned blank before Psylocke said, "How on Earth did you manage to live with that man without killing him?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow and coolly replied, "The same could be said of Logan."

Xavier cleared his throat to end what was likely to become a rather ugly argument and Flint couldn't help but internally sigh with relief. He honestly wouldn't have known which side to back up if it had come down to a brawl. "Anyway, I have some people I'd like the X-men to contact today. If Magneto performs some sort of coup with two double-agents within the Avengers, let's just say that it could turn very ugly."

"That's for sure," grunted Wolverine in agreement. Various other affirmations flowed throughout the room. "Whataya need, Chuck?"

"What we need is a 'brains trust' as such. Mr Stark, Forge and Beast have already agreed to join us on Tuesday and Jean, your biological expertise could be invaluable. Would you be so kind as to help them out?" questioned Xavier with a look at the woman.

"Of course," she agreed readily with an absent wave.

"Excellent," smiled the bald man before adding, "I need you to track down your old friend Hank Pym and invite him along."

Jean smiled widely. "Sure. It's been a long time but I'm sure he'll pitch in and I haven't caught up with Janet in ages."

Wordlessly nodding, Xavier turned to look at Wolverine. "Logan, of all of us, you're the one who best knows one of the Fantastic Four, aren't you."

Logan grunted. "Sure. Me and The Thing play poker and drink every couple o' weeks or so."

"Please appraise them of the potential danger and see if Reed Richards is available on Tuesday as well. He's sure to be a busy man though."

"Will do," agreed Wolverine as he folded his arms and slid back in his seat.

"Ms Romanoff..." started the founder of the X-men.

"Natasha or Widow is fine," interrupted the redhead in her version of kindly (which in reality sounded clipped and harsh).

Probably sensing her lack of ill-intent, Xavier just smiled and amended, "Widow, this may be just a pipe dream but there's one other I'd like to join the 'brains trust'. I was wondering if you might be able to track down Spider-Man?"

"It will be done," shrugged the superspy.

"If he gives ya any smack or doesn't believe ya, just tell 'im ta call me," said Logan with a smirk. "I'll set 'im straight."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe that I won't be convincing?"

Logan was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Getting back to present concerns," said Xavier, drawing the attention from around the room back to himself. "The rest of you, I need on high alert. We don't know when Magneto's plan will be set in motion but we must be prepared. Thank you. That will be all. Flint, a moment please." The X-men filed out and Natasha blended in with them after sharing a look with the archer.

"What's up, Uncle Charlie?" asked Flint with genuine interest.

"You're not going to like this," Xavier hedged, "but I think it would be highly beneficial for this particular situation."

"Oooookay," Flint stretched out.

"If things go bad, there is one organisation that needs to be appraised of the situation..." started Xavier.

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Flint yelled, knowing exactly where the telepath was headed.

"Please, hear me out, Flint." The telepath peered at the archer who sullenly nodded at the request. "SHIELD needs to know of this development so they can react accordingly if it goes poorly but there are very few people that could convince the Director of the validity of the information. I believe you are one of them. I also think that you are one of two who could infiltrate all the way into the helicarrier undetected but the Black Widow's loyalty, no matter how genuine it appears, will always cast at least a small degree of doubt. You are the only man who can get in and be believed."

"If you end that with 'help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope', I'll slap you," muttered Flint darkly. He wasn't pleased with the request but knew that it made complete sense. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I'll do it but I'm not happy about it at all." He turned to leave the room in a huff but Xavier's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"This may also be an opportunity for you to sever ties completely with SHIELD. If you convince Fury to let you go, you can let Flint go and be Clint again."

Flint turned around to look at the psychic. "True but there's also a good chance he'll incarcerate me, force me to re-join the Avengers or just remove me from the picture completely."

"Yes," agreed Xavier sombrely. "That is also a possibility but how much longer do you think you can live a lie without it hurting those closest to you when the truth comes to light?"

"Ugh!" growled Flint. "Why do you always have to be right?"

Smiling, Xavier said, "I'm not always right and that means when I do mess up, it's rather spectacularly."

The archer snorted and said, "I expect popcorn then, to enjoy the show next time it happens."

Xavier wheeled forward and placed a hand on Flint's hip. "Be safe, Littleflint and come back in one piece."

Flint nodded and left the War Room. He headed up to his space and deciphered the short coded message from Natasha. She said she'd be back soon after rendezvousing with Spider-Man and told him she'd kill Fury if he harmed Flint in any way.

The archer couldn't help buy chuckle quietly to himself. Of course, Tasha had stayed to eavesdrop on his conversation but his amusement quickly faded. He needed to break into one of the most heavily guarded installations on (well, above) Earth and confront a man who was less-cheerful than Logan. This was not going to be fun.


	25. Adamant X-posure

**A to X**

_Chapter Twenty-five - Adamant X-posure_

Flint left the X-mansion (after ensuring that his power gloves were fully loaded) and drove north to Albany before following the I-90 to the outskirts of Niagara Falls. The journey was pleasantly sunny and the almost seven hour trip breezed by since there was a distinct lack of traffic. He knew that SHIELD sometimes borrowed/appropriated personnel and munitions from the Niagara Falls Air Reserve Station. Since it was conveniently close to New York City itself without being too noticeable, it was also the main way that foodstuffs and perishables were stored and freighted to the helicarrier. The archer knew it was his best bet to smuggle himself onto the fortified airship.

It was lamentably simple to sneak into the 'heavily fortified' airbase and even easier to steal into one of the cargo jets bound for the helicarrier. Flint didn't have to wait long; the engines roared to life mere minutes after he crept in.

Getting out of the cargo jet unseen was much more of a challenge but the archer took advantage of a well-placed roof access panel and let himself into the place he knew best - the ventilation system. When he'd first started working on the helicarrier, he'd spent many quality hours dropping down from the ceiling and scaring the junior agents for fun. Really, it was quite satisfying to see them flail about in surprise.

When Coulson found out, Flint thought he'd get into trouble again and be forced to do excessive paperwork or something in recompense. Instead, the agent gave him that blank look of his and told him to report any agents that handled his 'surprise visits' exceptionally well or poorly so he could add the information to his extensive files. It gave him a legitimate excuse to continue his fun while thoroughly learning the inner workings of the helicarrier and was time well spent.

Flint now put that prior knowledge to full use. He silently made his way through the decks over several hours until he found the area he was looking for. Fury's office had always been Spartan in appearance and as he peered through the vent, he saw the man himself immersed in examining documents. Unlike Coulson's anally organised desk, the papers and binders were strewn haphazardly over it, forming an actual mountain of paperwork.

In hindsight, Flint made the same mistake with Fury that he had with Tasha the evening before - surprising a superspy. When he dropped from the ceiling, the director immediately pulled out his pistol as he stood up and fired several shots at the unexpected intruder. Only the archer's acrobatics saved him from a lethal dose of cranial perforations. At least he had the presence of mind to toss a weak electricity disk at the door panel mid-cartwheel, causing the mechanism to short out. Otherwise, a squadron of SHIELD agents would have poured into the room at their earliest convenience.

Fury still had his gun pointed mercilessly at Flint but the archer saw the tension in his ex-superior's shoulders ease slightly. "There's only one man I know who could pull off a stunt like that but he's a little harder to recognise without a quiver. Especially when he's got eyeliner like that," stated Nick Fury dryly.

Flint couldn't help but smirk at the serious man. "It was a necessary precaution to escape your notice, Nicky."

The director's remaining eye narrowed dangerously before the superspy snorted with amusement. "Well, at least I know it's definitely you, Barton. No one else with the exception of an irritating billionaire we both know would have the balls to call me that."

"True, true," agreed the archer with a wide smile.

At that, the director finally lowered his weapon. "Since I'm not already dead, I assume you aren't here to kill me so let's talk. I take it from your unconventional entrance that you are not in fact here to re-join SHIELD, are you?" Any traces of amusement in the room were swiftly destroyed by the question.

Flint sighed. "I'm afraid not, Sir."

The director sent his former assassin a piercing look. "At the very least, I believe I am owed some sort of explanation for your behaviour."

The ex-Avenger internally rolled his eyes. Of course Nick would interrogate him instead of just letting him tell the man what he thought was pertinent. "I, er, well, I, I just had to get away from Coulson." His voice lowered as he added, "Well, him and the Captain."

"I was unaware that you held such strong and narrow-minded views of the romantic lives of your teammates, Clint and even if I did know, I would have thought you'd be more professional than that." Fury's already stern face seemed to glower with extreme distaste.

Flint flushed a horrible red colour but it was purely from rage, not embarrassment. How dare he? How dare he think he was a homophobic asshole? "WHAT THE FUCK?" he spat out. "Why the hell shouldn't I have left? I didn't even know we were over until that asshole announced that he was shacking up with the star-spangled bastard."

Nick's face showed his complete surprise plainly. He seemed to struggle with his words before he said, "Am I to understand that you and Philip Coulson were having some sort of..." he trailed off as he mentally groped for an appropriate term and eventually settled on, "tryst?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Flint just nodded.

"How long?" asked the director.

Flint sighed, "Almost two years." He actually thought he was starting to get over the pain but rehashing it with Fury brought it all straight back to him again.

"You fell in love with him." It wasn't a question.

Once again, Flint simply nodded in response.

For one horrifying moment, Fury reached a hand toward Flint's shoulder and looked like he was about to console the archer but abruptly aborted the movement. Both men were quite relieved that he did so. They'd never been touchy-feely before and were happy to adhere to the norm.

"You won't be coming back, will you?" asked Fury as he eyed his former asset.

"I'm afraid not," answered Flint with a wry grin. "I can't work with either of them anymore."

A contemplative gleam entered Fury's remaining eye. "SHIELD is an extremely large organisation..."

Flint cut the director off (knowing that if he let the man talk, he'd be conned into something he really didn't want to do) by saying, "No. I've already found a new home."

"You dropped right off the grid, Barton. It was very impressive but I'd expect nothing less from you." Fury unerringly extracted a document from the mountain of paperwork and flipped a few pages in. He began to read a passage aloud. "_After twenty-four days_,_ there is still no trace of Hawkeye. However_,_ there is one small lead that could be followed up. During the recent Brotherhood incursion in Manhattan_,_ Agent Bishop worked alongside an X-man who had 'exceptional vision and aim_,_ although he did not use a bow'. She speculates that it could be Agent Barton in disguise_." The director looked back up at the sharpshooter. "Was her intuition correct?"

Flint didn't really see the point in denying it. "Yeah. My replacement was totally on the money. She's good, you know. I was actually impressed with her skills."

Fury physically waved the entire conversation aside with a flick of his hand. "Never mind that, why the hell are you living with the X-men?"

Unable to stop the smug smile which graced his lips, Flint unashamedly remarked, "Because it was one of the few places that I didn't think you'd look for me."

Fury conceded the point and then inquired as to whether Natasha had joined him yet. Flint assured him that she had and added that she'd quite vocally announced her intention never to return to SHIELD again too.

The director sighed and absently rubbed his forehead. "That doesn't really surprise me. Her loyalty was always to you, not the organisation. So that's two of my best assets that Coulson has lost me."

Knowing that Fury was probably about to fire or at the very least demote the level seven agent, Flint butted in. "Please, just let it go. If you revoke his clearance or remove him from liaising with the Avengers, questions as to why will be asked. The last thing the Avengers need at the moment is another scandal."

"Another scandal?" Fury tersely repeated, the question in his tone.

"Look, you're not going to like this in the slightest but we wanted you to be prepared," Flint pre-empted.

Fury looked less than pleased with that particular introduction as he accepted a USB drive from the assassin. He plugged it into his computer and opened the only file on it. A summary page compiled by Dr Hank McCoy appeared on the screen which clearly showed the 99.99% DNA match between the two newest Avengers and the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants.

"Wait!" yelled Flint as Fury's right hand went straight for his radio earpiece and he was instantly reminded of Tony's reaction to the very same news. Thankfully the superspy heeded his warning and turned his attention back to the archer. "We still have the element of surprise. If they were indeed planted by Magneto to infiltrate the Avengers, we can use that to our advantage."

"Elaborate," Fury said curtly as he let his arm drop by his side.

"The X-men are hosting a collaborative meeting of geniuses at the X-mansion to come up with some contingency plans next Tuesday. We're inviting Reed Richards, Hank Pym and Spider-Man along. They'll meet with Forge, Hank McCoy, Jean Grey and Tony Stark. We're hoping that between them all, we'll have everything covered."

"Spider-Man? Good luck getting him to pitch in," muttered Fury. "He still avoids gatherings like the plague. What makes you think he'll want to help out?"

Flint smiled. "Natasha."

"Hmmm," hummed Fury. "I knew I should have got her to make contact instead of Hill."

Flint couldn't help but snort at that. "You sent Maria after him? No wonder he wants nothing to do with SHIELD!"

"It was a tactical error," admitted the director, to Flint's surprise. Had the sky turned purple and blood rained from the skies too? "I'm not about to make another one. No matter what, I know that I cannot force you back to SHIELD, you'd only rebel and make my life a living hell. I don't need the extra headaches or paperwork. What I can do is give you this." He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a small phone which lacked the usual eagle motif. "This phone was specifically designed for extreme emergencies only. It cannot receive calls and connects directly to me and me alone. It bounces around frequencies more than the Hulk smashes, making it completely untraceable. If you need to contact me again, use it. That way I won't need to waste my ammo if you decide to drop by."

Grabbing the offered handset, Flint stowed it safely in a hidden pocket of his pants. "I will, Fury." He extended his hand across the mountainous desk and the director clasped it firmly. "Thank you, Sir. For everything."

Fury gave the archer a half-smile. "You can thank me by making sure these 'New Avengers' don't get New York or the entire bloody planet destroyed."

"Sure thing, boss," agreed Flint, as he was released from the handshake. "It was an honour working for you." He truly meant it. The director had taken a huge chance in turning Flint into an agent and once more when the archer spared and later flipped the Black Widow. If it weren't for Fury, he wouldn't have become the hero he was today.

"I've had worse agents than you, Barton," said Fury with an honest to God smile. "Tell Romanoff the same," he added as he extracted a second phone from the still-open drawer and tossed it his way. "Pass that along while you're at it."

Flint had just stored the second phone with the first and was about to give a cheeky reply when the doors to Fury's office exploded open with a bang and a cloud of dust. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to sneak back into the vents, he abandoned all subtlety and barrelled his way down the hall, knocking surprised SHIELD agents out of his way before they had a chance to register his presence.

At least the archer still had home court advantage. He negotiated the hallways with practiced ease, dodging bullets like a madman. Remembering the secondary hangar was only a couple of floors below him, he vaulted over a balcony, fell three stories and rolled back to his feet. Just as he reached the door to the room, he felt a bullet tear through his leg but didn't let it stop him from reaching his goal. He jumped onto a sky-cycle (it was a cross between a motorbike and a jet) and was exceptionally pleased that he'd actually trained on one of them before. Using the on-board weapons system of the vehicle, he blasted the hangar door open and flew the fuck out of there.

It wasn't until he was freefalling that Flint realised that his wound must have been worse than he'd originally thought, since he hadn't even noticed that he'd lost track of his appropriated sky-cycle. He vaguely hoped the machine wouldn't fall on some poor unsuspecting citizen. The gathering thunderclouds also escaped him but the chilling gale-force winds were enough to bring back at least a small modicum of his intelligence. He felt arms encase him and felt immediately safe, despite the unexpected tempest. Realising that his velocity was decreasing, he finally allowed the blackness at the corner of his eyes take him over.

"_Вы __чертов __гребаный __придурок__! _(_You bloody fucking moron!_)," were the words from his left that brought the ex-Avenger back to consciousness. He thought Natasha had yelled them but was far too disorientated to comprehend pretty much anything. Both of his hands were tightly clasped by someone, although he was momentarily confused since he was certain that they were on opposite sides of his body and Natasha couldn't be in two places at once, could she?

"_Она __права__, __вы __знаете_ (_She's right, you know_)," came from the right in a deep male voice that he recognised as Петр's. "_Это __было __действительно __тупой__, __вы __знаете__, __получить __выстрел __и __все_ (_It was pretty dumb, you know, getting shot and all_)."

If he felt like he could have snorted and not felt pain, he totally would have. Instead he growled out, "_Мои извинения__, Чайник. __Я постараюсь__, чтобы не __напали __на моем __следующей миссии__, то._ (_My apologies, Teapot. I'll try not to get attacked on my next mission, then_.)"

"_Вы __делаете __это_ (_You do that_)," snarked Петр with what sounded like palpable relief at the same time as Natasha said, "_Дик_ (_Dick_)."

"_Вот __это __да__!_ (_Wow!_)," muttered Flint with sarcastic humour. "_Я чувствую себя так __любил _(_I __feel __so __loved_)."

"_Ты __лучше_ (_You better_)," growled Петр. "_Она пыталась убить __меня за то __в__этой проклятой __комнате и..._(_She tried to kill me for being in the damn room and..._)" A thunderous look overtook the mutant. "_Вы __говорите __чистейшем __Русском_ (_You're speaking perfect Russian_)." The man gently shook his head and switched to English, which made his words sound even harsher to the archer. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"I-I'm sorry, Петр. I haven't been entirely honest with you." Before Flint could continue to explain, the hand holding his right one released it and the loud scraping of a chair on the floor caused a huge throb of pain in his head. "My real name is Clinton Francis Barton..." he started to explain but the Russian spoke over him.

"At this point in time I really don't care. I, er, I have to go," Петр said before he all but ran from the room.

Despite the fact that he'd only met the man a few weeks ago, Flint felt the Russian's physical absence more than he thought possible. How had he come to care for him so much in such a short amount of time?

"Well that could have gone better," noted Tasha calmly from the archer's side. She gave his left hand a comforting squeeze which he gently returned.

"You're not wrong," pouted Flint.

"Forget him," the superspy ordered before she smacked the back of his hand when he tried to protest. "What the hell were you thinking? How dare you get shot! You're too good to make such a rookie mistake. If Storm hadn't caught you..." she trailed off.

Flint shrugged his shoulders and regretted the action immediately when his body felt like it was going to kill him. "I had no options. There I was, having a pleasant conversation with Fury and some green agents actually blew the door open. Would you blow Nicholas J Fury's office door open? Ever?"

Natasha answered, "Not unless I was feeling particularly masochistic."

"Exactly, so I had to improvise. Oh, by the way, old Cyclops sent you a present. Oh, I suppose I can't call Fury that anymore since we already have a Cyke here. Damn." Flint knew he was babbling but it was the only thing keeping himself from falling apart.

"Present?" inquired Tasha with a spark of interest.

Flint nodded. "Back inner left trouser pocket. One's for you, one's for me. He said to tell you 'he's had worse than us' or some such shit. I think he misses us, like Tony does."

Natasha just snorted as she quickly found the hidden pocket and emptied it of the two phones.

"They're private lines to Fury. Completely untraceable. He said it was for emergencies only. We're officially out," Flint said as he made grabby hands at the phones that Natasha held out of his reach. "Aw, come on," the ex-Avenger pouted, "I want to order a pizza."

"I don't think the phone works that way and if it did, Fury would kill you for being an idiot. I'm glad he knows where we stand and that it's no longer by his side. Get some rest," ordered the Black Widow as she rolled her eyes. The slight twitch of her lips were the only indication that she was mildly amused with his petulant behaviour. "Now. Otherwise I'll put you to sleep and you won't like it. You're already in enough pain."

"Fine," muttered Flint as he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

The next time the fake-mutant opened his eyes, neither Tasha nor Петр were in the room. Instead he was faced with Jubilee and Monet.

"So sleeping Biceps finally decided to face the damn music," snarked Jubilee and Flint desperately wished he was unconscious again. The loudness and sharpness of her tone caused his head to throb uncomfortably.

"Never mind her," soothed Monet. "She's just pissy because she accidentally let slip to Peter that she already knew you were Hawkeye when he was complaining to her and now he's avoiding the both of you. I'm sure you can imagine exactly how much she likes being ignored."

Flint could and it wasn't a pretty picture. Bored Jubilee was bad enough but ignored Jubilee would be plain trouble. Not even Wolverine would tolerate his favoured junior X-man in that sort of a mood.

"For fuck's sake," snarled Jubes unexpectedly, causing both Flint and Monet to jump in surprise. "You're a goddam Avenger. How the hell did you manage to get shot?"

"Just unlucky, I guess," shrugged Flint nonchalantly.

"You could have taken us with you," pouted the firecracker as she crossed her arms and looked away.

"Really?" questioned the archer in surprise. "I thought Xavier was going to smack your mind around if you went on another unsanctioned mission or something. Plus, I spent over four hours crawling through the vents and I recall from our last adventure that you hated every minute of it."

"It wasn't so bad," argued Jubes with a frown.

"There was no billionaire with alcohol at the end of this journey, just a bullet." Flint just shrugged indifferently. As much as it shouldn't be the case, this was the ninth bullet wound he'd had to endure. So in all honesty, it wasn't a big deal at all.

"NINTH?" yelled Monet in horror, having no doubt overheard his thoughts. Damn, he'd forgotten to maintain his psychic shields after coming to. Of course, the whole Петр running away from his thing had certainly been a powerful distraction.

"Ninth what?" asked Jubes, her confusion apparent.

Flint sighed. "This is the ninth time I've been shot."

This announcement actually robbed Jubilation of her ability to speak, which amused the other two X-men despite the current circumstances. Since she was unable to find her words, the firecracker slapped Flint on the shoulder.

"Hey. What was that for?" the archer sulked.

"For being stupid enough not to learn from your mistakes. I thought it was, like, bad enough that you (an ex-Avenger for shit's sake) were dumb enough to get shot but nine times? What are you? A complete moron?" There was the usual Jubilee spunk.

"Nah," shrugged Flint. "Just a slow learner."

"Well you better improve or poor Petey will be left without a..." Jubes trailed off at the obvious grimace that crossed Flint's face. "Shit. Sorry, I, er, fuck, I mean, erm," floundered the Chinese American mutant.

Monet talked over the firecracker in an attempt to save her some embarrassment. "Clint."

The name brought Hawkeye and Jubilee's attention to the French woman. She flicked her hair (something that the archer saw quite often from her - it appeared to be her trademark move) and shrugged. "There's no real reason to keep it secret anymore, is there? Colonel Fury knows, most of the X-men too. Even Петр. Who exactly are you still hiding from?"

Flint, no, Clint sat there and seriously thought about it. There was no real need for deception now, was there? Pretty much everyone knew. Really, he just needed to stay hidden from Coulson and Rogers. Xavier had already suggested he drop the charade, now Monet agreed with him and if it's only going to cause problems with his new friends like it had for Петр, well, that he could certainly live without.

Monet's eyes bored into Clint's and despite the fact that the latter was certain he'd hidden his thoughts once more, he was also quite sure the telepath had divined his intended course of action. She smiled broadly at him which he quickly returned.

"What the hell are you both smirking at?" asked a rather pissy Jubilee.

Clint's amused glance turned her way and he said, "Hey there, I'm Clint. I used to be an Avenger. It's nice to meet you."

"I already know who you are, you idiot," groused the firecracker and it wasn't until Monet explained why he'd reintroduced himself that she finally understood the significance. "Oh, it's about time! Does that mean we can tell the others about the Black Widow too?"

Clint quirked an eyebrow. "You'll have to ask her yourself. If you expose the Black Widow's identity without her blessing, she'll probably stab you in the neck with a letter opener or something."

Not to be put off, Jubilee's expression became momentarily dreamy before she came back to the present, smirked and thwacked the ex-Avenger on the shoulder again. "I'd love to 'expose the Black Widow' pretty much all the time."

Monet groaned aloud and face palmed loudly while Clint looked at the firecracker in horror. "Um, Jubes honey. There's a little factoid you should know about the Black Widow."

"Oooookay?" stretched the woman in confusion.

"Despite her codename and outward appearance, she's much more of a mamma bear type of girl," Clint hedged, hoping she'd get the hint. Unfortunately, only Monet seemed to comprehend the statement and her eyes widened before briefly flicking to the ceiling.

"Alrighty, Biceps. I have no idea what you're talking about."

The archer sighed loudly. "Whenever a close, personal friend of Natasha is either in danger or recovering from harm..."

The Black Widow slipped from her perch on top of a cabinet and landed right in front of a very startled Jubilee and finished, "I protect them at any cost."

Clint and Monet both somehow managed to contain their amusement as Jubilee squeaked and stumbled backward, away from the superspy with a few loud, choice expletives.

When Jubilee collected herself, she instantly paled. Clint assumed that she'd finally made the connection that the Widow had overheard her earlier statement about exposure and for the first time since he'd woken up after bagging his ninth bullet entry wound, felt content.


	26. Attacking the X-pert

Hey. I haven't really done many AN's for this story so far but there's two things I'd like to say.

1) Thanks **PtitBlond** for translating the French for me. You rock! (Again!)

2) Sorry that this chapter took so long. Life has been awful lately and the characters refused to cooperate with pretty much everything! Ugh, I'm just so glad that it's finally done. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Twenty-six - Attacking the X-pert_

Clint spent the rest of Saturday and part of Sunday morning confined to the med lab. He could have made a break for it and hobbled his way to freedom but there was nowhere to hide with several highly trained telepaths constantly checking on his well-being. Well, that and Natasha would have killed him.

Jean released the archer at lunchtime with a set of crutches that the injured man flat out refused to use. It wasn't until he was half-way out of the sub-basement that he realised the telepath must have done something to him because he was clearly supporting his weight on those damn things. Unlike his brush with Loki, Jean's mental touch was delicate. So much so that he hadn't even noticed the intrusion. Strangely enough, he was only mildly pissed at her meddling where a few weeks ago, he'd probably be trying to kill her right about now; injured or not. He decided to continue using them purely so Jean wouldn't mess with his mind again and he tried his best not think about how that was probably her intention in the first place.

Clint was bombarded with visitors at his table after he'd grabbed a modest meal. Most of the X-men stopped by to see how he was holding up and several members of his language classes came up to him unannounced. He took great delight in ordering them about to fetch him things and was surprised to see them all followed without question. Since he'd easily garnered the majority of the room's attention already, he cleared his throat loudly and announced, "Okay, there's something I want to tell you all. It's pretty important."

Everyone stared at the ex-Avenger with rapt attention.

"So, the first thing you should really know is that my name's not actually Flint. It's Clint Barton, although most of you will already know me as Hawkeye..."

Clint was cut off as pandemonium erupted.

A violet-coloured girl fainted from shock while many surprised and inappropriate words were blurted out around the room, causing Scott to frown deeply with disapproval at the rampant cursing. Jubilee and Logan watched the mayhem with identical feral grins. Петр stood up and sourly left the room, closely followed by a murderous looking Monet.

A loud crack of thunder brought the room to a standstill. "Enough," bellowed Storm with a tone closest to angry that he'd ever heard from the usually serene woman. When it was clear that everyone had shut up, she added, "I already have a headache. You would do well not to aggravate it."

"Look," said Clint now that he could be heard again. "Uncle Charlie was kind enough to let me stay here so Director Fury wouldn't find me. I mean, why would he look in a mutant school for a human? It worked like a charm but now he knows I'm here and there's no reason for me to hide who I truly am anymore. So, yeah. Um, that's all, I guess?"

"HOLY SHIT!" yelled a boy who Clint hadn't met yet. "Does that mean your smokin' hot friend is the Black motherfucking Widow?"

"RAY!" reprimanded Scott automatically.

The boy looked down at his chest where several Widow's Bites were now buried. "Wow. She totally is!" he whispered to himself in wonder.

Clint and Natasha shared a look of confusion. The kid should have been knocked out cold from that many darts.

An arc of lightning zipped through the air and connected with the boy. He was knocked over before he staggered back to his feet with frizzed up hair and a really dazed look on his face.

"Berzerker can absorb and project electricity," noted Storm calmly to the pair. "He requires a much larger dosage than usual." She turned to look at the now cowering teen. "You were warned." He tried to shrink back further but was saved from an unexpected source.

Logan mustn't have expected his voice to carry as much as it did because everyone heard him say, "That's my girl."

A second arc of lightning flew through the room, this time connecting with the feral mutant. Unlike before, this was a much more powerful surge and the smell of burnt flesh and hair began to permeate around the room, causing several students (and Angel) to abandon their meals in disgust. "I am no one's girl and only a fool would irritate me after I already electrocuted someone else." Without another word, the regal woman turned and strode purposefully from the room.

"Wow," chirped Jubilee with excitement. "I never thought I'd see Little Miss Rain, Hail and Shine lose her cool like that. You really messed up Wolvie."

It was a testament to how powerful the electrical surge had been since all Logan managed to do was glare at his protégé instead of eviscerating her on the spot. After seeing the ugly look on his face, the firecracker swiftly left the room under the guise of 'feeding her pet rock'.

Clint was subjected to a long and torturous remainder of his lunch where he answered all sorts of questions about his time with the Avengers. At least he wasn't alone, Natasha had her own share of inquiries but since the archer had been in the mansion longer and was the more approachable of the two, he fielded the majority of them. He generally told the truth but answered a lot of the more outrageous questions with 'that's classified' just so he wouldn't have to answer them. The only thing he flat out refused to talk about were the circumstances surrounding his leaving of his old team. That wasn't anyone else's business.

The two ex-Avengers then took the opportunity to train in the Danger Room for a bit. Clint lovingly worked with a bow once more (since his leg was still healing from his gunshot wound) while Natasha spent her time demonstrating her physical prowess. When word spread during lunch that the two ex-Avengers would be training, they'd received a lot of interest from the students and X-men alike. It spread like wildfire throughout the mansion and pretty everyone had turned up. Even Forge made an appearance and the technological mutant being out of the lab was always a rare sight. The only absence Clint noted was Storm. She must have one killer headache.

It had been Julian that haughtily said his powers would easily best the Black Widow because he was a powerful mutant and she was just a mere human girl. Clint didn't bother to correct him and enjoyed watching the cocky boy get his butt kicked soundly. The student flushed an ugly shade of red at the humiliation and moved back to the sidelines. However, his brazen challenge opened the floodgates and soon a large portion of the mutants wanted a turn at Natasha. When it became clear that hardly anyone was a match for her (Jean, Wolverine and surprisingly Pixie did quite well) they started forming teams of two or three.

When a group of seven came up to challenge her, Clint decided to dump his bow and provide his partner some long-range 'mutant' support. Kitty didn't even have time to blink, let alone phase, as a nerve gas disc smacked her in the face. Monet, Jimmy, Bobby and Rogue soon followed suit and before the team had even reached the Black Widow, there were only two left. She took care of them in short order.

"I have time for only one more round," announced Natasha calmly after about an hour of bouts. She stood proudly but Clint could detect slight fatigue in her eyes. "And there's one mutant that I still wish to face." Wolverine started moving forward but the Black Widow shook her head. "Not you, Logan. I have someone else in mind. A man who I'm extremely displeased with." Her dangerous eyes fell onto Петр, who'd been skulking at the back of the room. "_Вы __кого-то __больно __дорогой __для меня_ (_You__'__ve __hurt __someone __dear __to __me_)."

The Russian mutant stared unerringly back and evenly replied, "_Тогда __он __не __должен __мне __больно __сначала __его __легкомыслия_ (_Then he shouldn't have hurt me first with his thoughtlessness_.)" He folded his arms.

"What did they say?" hissed Jubes to Monet.

The telepath rolled her eyes. "How would I know? I can read thoughts, not translate languages."

"Well, what good are you th...?"

Natasha's reply cut off the firecracker from continuing. "_Правда__. __Клинт __и __идиот__, но я __не могу не думать__, что он заслуживает __лучше, чем вы__. __Он __все еще восстанавливается __от __разбитого сердца__, и вы __сделали это __хуже. __Это __непростительно_. (_True. Clint's an idiot but I can't help thinking he deserves better than you. He's still recovering from a broken heart and you made it worse. It's unforgivable_.)"

Clint could see with his excellent eyes the moment when Петр registered shock, then dismay. It gave him a surge of hope that everything might actually turn out alright in the future.

Without waiting for the mutant to reply, Natasha switched back to English. "Pick two others of your choice and come at me with everything you've got." Excited mutters went around the room but Tasha's eyes found Clint's. "There will be no external interference or I will vent my displeasure."

The archer rolled his eyes. As if he'd be stupid enough to get embroiled in this fight.

Петр made his way to the middle of the virtual gym with Surge and Nightcrawler in his wake. Clint was quite impressed with the selection, not because of the powers themselves but rather that he'd chosen his Diamonds teammates. That way, they should fight more cohesively as a unit. It also caused him some amusement because Jubilee was being restrained at the sidelines by Monet. She did not like being left out of the action and was irate that Петр hadn't chosen her to help.

"If I win," said Natasha quietly, "you will sit down and have an actual conversation with Clint."

"And if I succeed?" inquired Петр with a thick raised eyebrow.

The Black Widow shrugged. "Name your prize. Whatever it is, I'll deliver."

As the male Russian thought, the female one scanned over her competition and Clint immediately knew she was taking advantage of the moment to assess their weaknesses with her mutant power.

"If we win, you'll go on a date with Jubilee," decided Петр.

"YES!" yelled a suddenly ecstatic firecracker, who lived up to her name by letting off a powerful display of pyrotechnics entirely by accident due to her excitement. Monet had the good sense to release the girl she'd been restraining to save herself from getting blown up. "Peter, I fucking love you right now!"

Clint felt a curl of jealousy that was rather unreasonable considering the Russian man wasn't currently talking to him. Or the mutant herself for that matter.

"Fine," Natasha readily agreed. She assumed a defensive pose and said, "Start whenever you're ready."

Just as the Black Widow had already deduced, Nightcrawler immediately vanished in a puff of smoke and she dodged to her left just in time to evade a furry blue kick aimed at her head from behind. She used her momentum to dive forward in a roll to avoid a lightning blast from Surge. After scissoring her legs to knock the Japanese girl over, she fired two darts directly above her. They hit the newly materialised Nightcrawler, who had teleported once again and he was stunned into unconsciousness. She rolled to her right to avoid the body falling on her and flipped back to her feet. She noted to herself that Colossus had armoured up.

Surge's eyes narrowed as she sent blast after blast of electricity at the Russian woman. Naturally, the superspy was able to avoid all of them bar one. The surprising zap had been a ricochet shot that Surge had sent at Colossus, knowing her strike would arc off the metallic man to the nearest source. After the shock, Natasha stopped toying with the electrically enhanced mutant and took great delight in rendering her unconscious the old-fashioned way, with a strong flying kick in the torso.

Standing up with her hands on her hips, the Black Widow eyed her metallic foe. He'd hurt Clint and that was unacceptable. She focussed her power on the man and read his weakness before launching herself at him. A large smirk crossed her face as she dodged around her surprisingly swift opponent. Whoever would have thought that someone so bulky could move so fast? She didn't really try to attack him since she'd only do herself harm but instead bided her time, waiting for the most opportune time to strike.

Петр managed to knock the Black Widow over twice but as he moved to punch her right in the torso, she saw her opening. She slipped a hand into one of her pouches as she fell into the splits and extracted a gift she'd received from T'Challa a year before. It was something she'd never had to use before; a ceremonial mambele. Ordinarily, a mambele is made out of iron. In this case (since Wakanda is rich with vibranium) the tri-bladed dagger was much more deadly than its contemporaries. It could cut through adamantium like a knife through butter and since Colossus was currently made out of metal, it easily sliced right into the man's thigh.

The moment the metal pierced Петр's armoured up leg, the pain shocked him out of his mutant form and back into human. Natasha took her chance to knock the Russian out with a solid punch between the eyes. Once the man had fallen, she removed the mambele from his leg and the safety protocols of the Danger Room kicked in. It placed the unconscious man into a state of suspended animation, while releasing medical nanobots (designed by Forge) which began repairing the damaged tissue right before everyone's eyes.

"I win," noted the Black Widow coldly before she shared a look with Clint and left the room. As soon as she left, whispers started up and the remaining ex-Avenger made a hasty retreat before the horde could start assaulting him with more questions. He couldn't help but feel a bit pleased. Петр had no choice but to talk to him. Hopefully, the man might even forgive him for the deception but the archer wasn't going to hold his breath. He wasn't really one to be unnecessarily hopeful.

Clint spent the rest of the day mooching around his apartment and catching up on some TV. He'd rather die than admit it to anyone but he was rather tired after his small workout (plus his wound was still recovering) and spent much more of his time sleeping rather than viewing.

Despite the throbbing in his leg, Clint still taught his French class the following afternoon. At least there were no Danger Room sessions he needed to attend. The class was unusually attentive and hung off his every word. Apparently the students were much better behaved for Clint than Flint. It started to irritate him after about fifteen minutes of dead silence. They'd never been this quiet before and it was rather unnerving.

"Alright. I've had enough of this shit," growled Clint with a deep frown. There was a collective gasp around the room. Whether it was at his tone, curse or glare, he couldn't tell. It was probably a combination of the three. "Where the hell has my French class gone?"

"We're right here," said Monet with amusement from her customary position at the back of the room. _I've been waiting to see how long it would take you to crack_ she whispered quietly into his mind.

Clint continued to glare around at the class and sent a much more venomous look her way. "I'm the same guy who taught you all last week. Stop being so... so weird!"

There were a couple of chuckles at his statement but the rest of the class remained eerily silent.

"_Mais vous n'êtes plus la même personne qu'avant_ (_But you're not the same guy as last time_)," Julian disagreed, purely in French. "_Avant, vous n'étiez qu'un professeur mutant de plus qui connaissait le professeur. Maintenant, vous êtes un des meilleurs superhéros que le monde connaisse!_ (_Last time you were just some mutant teacher who knew the Professor. Now you're one of best superheroes the world has ever seen!_)"

"_Hum_ (_Well_)," snorted Clint, "_Je ne sais pas si je dirais ça_ (_I don't know if I'd go that far_)."

"_Moi oui_ (_I do_)," the teen continued to argue. "_Avant, je pensais que vous étiez sexy mais maintenant je ne pense plus qu'à vous M. Roberts... __Hum... M. Barton_. (_Before I just thought you were hot but now I just can't get you out of my mind, Mr Roberts... er, Mr Barton._)

The ex-Avenger felt his mouth fall open at the declaration and he looked over at Monet with surprise. She simply smirked at him and any small hope that he might have somehow misunderstood or misheard the telekinetic was crushed. His only saving grace was that the declaration had been in French and only the three of them were able to understand it. The rest of the class were watching on with great interest but no comprehension.

Clint took a moment to collect his thoughts and looked back at Julian. The student had blushed a brilliant red but met his gaze evenly. He had to give him credit for that. "_Julian, tu es un gars super mais quelqu'un d'autres m'intéresse. J'espérais que tu le réaliserais sans que j'ai à te blesser mais tu as l'air d'être particulièrement __buté. Tu trouveras quelqu'un mais ce quelqu'un n'est pas moi. En plus, __je sais déjà que quelqu'un est fou amoureux de toi, c'est juste que tu ne le vois pas. Bon, retournons à notre leçon. Si tu as besoin d'en parler plus tard, demande-moi, d'accord? _(_Julian, I think you're a great guy but I'm interested in someone else. I had hoped that you might realise this without me having to hurt your feelings but you appear to be quite stubborn. There's someone out there for you but I'm afraid it's not me. In fact, I know that there's a guy who's head over heels in love with you, if you could just see him. Anyway, let's get back to the lesson at hand. If you need to talk to me about this later, just ask me, okay?_)"

"_D'accord_ (_Okay_)," parroted Julian, despite the distress that clearly showed on his face. The lesson then progressed but the unexpected conversation did achieve something. Clint's class of zombies regained their former verve and the usual chaos of the classroom returned. Although it took more work from the archer to control them, it was far better for his piece of mind. He'd had too many run-ins with the shapeshifting Skrulls and mind-manipulating masters to not find radical changes in people to be anything other than downright alarming. It was a welcome change.

Clint did notice that Julian turned rather introspective for the remainder of the period and he refrained from engaging the lovesick student any further. Working through his problems in his head would be a better use for his time than being bored out of his mind, listening to a lesson about a language he already had a great grasp over.

Despite his vociferous protests, Clint was forced out of the Danger Room from his team's training session the next day. As Jono not so eloquently put it, _With your leg all shot up, you're about as useful as Toad in a friggin' beauty pageant. Get outta here, watch from the control room and don' expect to join in until next week at least. Idiot._

In a way, it worked out for the best. The team were working on their trust of one another and (although Clint could hardly believe it) they were practising trust falls. He wasn't saved from how juvenile it was but rather from how horrifying the exercise turned out to be. It was a bit more than the usual 'fall back into my arms, I'll catch you' stick. They had to climb a ladder three stories high wearing a Genoshan collar (some sort of device that depowered their mutant abilities) and then fall backward where one of the others would save them from plummeting to their death with their powers.

The exercise was devised by Storm after she'd plucked Clint out of the sky only two days before. He hadn't even known who'd saved him until that point and he made a great show of thanking the stately woman for her aid many times over. Apparently, he had been the source of her headache as she'd had to push herself hard to reach him in time. She'd been shopping over nine suburbs over when she received a telepathic distress call from Xavier via the ever potent Cerebro interface.

Clint was more than happy to be given a pass and watched from the control booth that oversaw the Danger Room. It was his job to disengage the safety protocols before each fall and re-engage them upon a successful completion. In reality, however, he was only pretending to switch them off and on again (as per his instructions from the Weather Witch) so that nothing untoward occurred. Just in case.

"There you are, Sunshine!" chirped a voice from behind, startling the archer badly enough to jump in his seat. His attention had been completely focussed on the last fall (Storm herself to be caught by Monet) that he hadn't even noticed Tony Stark had barged his way in. A quick glance showed him that an irate Scott, nonplussed Logan and a very amused Natasha all stood behind the billionaire.

"Fuck. Jesus. Are you trying to kill me Stark?" growled Clint when he was finally able to speak semi-coherently. "And what are you even doing here, for that matter?"

Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Really, Robin Hood? I just finished at the meeting of smart guys and one damn sexy gal." Scott's already potent glare intensified at that, since the billionaire was referring to his girlfriend. Even if Tony had seen it, Clint would have bet Shirley that the man would have continued on unrepentantly. "You were there when Mr X himself invited me to it, I believe." He looked down at the archer's still bandaged wound. "Of course, if you weren't getting yourself shot AGAIN, you might have remembered."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Please, as if I didn't get into enough trouble from her over that," he groused while he nodded toward Natasha, who just grinned. Tony blanched at the thought of suffering from the Black Widow's discontentment.

"Suck it up, Princess," snorted the philanthropist when he regained his casual demeanour. "Anyway, I had a date with Mr Flexible, the Pym-meister, Spider-spandex and some of the X-geeks. I can't say it was my first seven-some and it wasn't the most satisfying..."

"Spare us," growled Summers from behind the man. His hand was twitching by his side and Clint knew he was showing remarkable restraint by not blasting Tony right in the face with a potent optic beam. Hell, many a time he'd wanted to put an arrow in the man's eye himself.

"Whatever," Tony waved away absently. "Are you all done in here?"

Clint looked out the window to see his team had already left the Danger Room without even bothering to let him know. Then again, the mike had been left on and they would have heard the conversation anyway. They probably assumed he would have his hands full. "Apparently so."

"Excellent," chirped Tony as he hauled the ex-Avenger to his feet. "It's time for a drink or fifteen. Pep's made my excuses for me to the Avs and its high time we got plastered, don't you think? Oh, you should get that little Jubbly girl to join us. Anyone who can down scotch like that deserves to be present." He turned around to look at the three who were still standing behind him. "Of course, any other interested X-peeps or whoever else really are also invited. The drinks will be on me and believe you me, I can afford it. Even his," he added with an imperious wave at Logan, who was smirking deeply.

"You'll regret tha' come tomorrow," Wolverine chuckled darkly.

"Pfft," spat Tony. "With the money I make in a second, I could buy twelve mansions just like this if I really wanted to. I provide alcohol for Spangles himself and he can't even get drunk!" He blinked and frowned. "Why am I even defending myself? I'm too rich to give a shit about what plebeians think." The genius' grin returned. "Let's just get Hulk Smash-ed already!"


	27. Amply X-uberant

_Hey. _

_I'm still alive and so is this fic but hell, nothing wanted to cooperate with me in this chapter so I apologise that it took me this long to complete. I just hope the future instalments come easier to me._

_Cheers, Jace._

* * *

><p><strong>A to X<strong>

_Chapter Twenty-seven - Amply X-uberant_

The den of the X-mansion was fast becoming Clint's favourite room since it was once again the venue of an impromptu drinking event. Unlike last Wednesday, the poker table was stowed away somewhere and a temporary bar had been installed in its place. It featured flashing multi-coloured lights and an unfamiliar woman behind it, serving drinks with a toothpaste white grin. A wink from Jean confirmed the archer's suspicions that she'd played some sort of cranial shuffle to make the woman overlook the obvious mutations floating around the room. The fact that the "Bar Wench" (as her nametag proudly proclaimed) appeared to be wearing a miniscule bikini reeked wholly of Stark's influence. Deciding not to dwell on the mind tricks and mischief of others, the archer stalked over to the scantily clad woman and snagged a whole bottle of vodka before surveying the chaos around him.

The room was filled to the brim with mutants. Even Professor Xavier himself was tucked away in a corner, sharing a rather expensive bottle of cognac with Hank Pym. Clint couldn't work out how they were managing to calmly converse over the loud music being cranked out. The centre of the den had been cleared to form a makeshift dancefloor and several mutants were boogying the night away. Jean's red hair was easy to spot as she spun a laughing Janet Pym around.

Clint couldn't help but smirk. The Wasp was one hell of a funny woman. The Avengers had collaborated with the Pyms on a couple of occasions and while Hank was rather quiet and broody, Janet was the complete polar opposite. The same could be said of the other married couple in the room. The Invisible Woman was the yin to Reed's socially inept yang. In fact, it had been Susan Storm-Richards who'd initiated some sort of drinking game involving strange arm movements, blindfolds and a lot of laughter. It was keeping the majority of the senior X-men occupied, several of whom were already well on the way to becoming plastered.

Ben Grimm had hitched a ride with Sue on the Fantasti-Car shortly after he received a quick call from Logan to join the spontaneous festivities. The pair were smoking quality cigars and steadily making their way through a few cartons of beer with a still spandex-clad Spider-Man (only his mouth was uncovered), Rockslide, Mercury, Victor and Julian.

Seeing the student again after his confession was a bit saddening for the ex-Avenger. He hadn't wanted to hurt the guy's feelings but some things were just not meant to be. His eyes were only for Петр, despite the fact that they weren't currently talking. That would soon change thanks to Natasha's wager and he couldn't help but notice that the Russian man himself was drinking premium Vodka against the far wall with Jubilee and their circle of friends.

"Clint!" yelled Tony from somewhere to the archer's left. "Get your goddam ass over here already! We need to talk about things and stuff and yeah."

The archer turned and looked over at the billionaire. Tony already looked like the definition of tanked but the archer knew that he was barely getting started. He'd seen the man far more intoxicated than this on a regular Tuesday morning.

Joining the genius that was sprawled all over a couch, Natasha's lap and pressed up against a clearly uncomfortable Reed Richards, Clint flopped down by his best friend's side. He paid no heed to the billionaire's protests as he sat on the man's feet and took a long swig from his bottle before he silently passed it to Tasha. "You were saying?" Clint asked Tony with a raised eyebrow.

Stark furrowed his eyebrows and his complaints were silenced as he tried to remember what he'd been talking about. "Aha!" he chirped and turned back to Reed and waved a finger dangerously close to the cosmically enhanced entity's nose. "So yeah, Mr Stretchy-pants. Sorry that Big Green couldn't make it because he'd totally be able to talk science with you but he didn't want to be in a mansion full of kids that might get squashed if one of them got him angry and stuff so, er, no science for you!"

"That's a... shame?" replied the awkward genius. He took a sip from the light blue drink in his hand that had probably been forced on him by Tony and grimaced at the taste. "This is, er, a very nice gathering. I suppose."

"Isn't it?" beamed Tony rhetorically.

Clint almost felt sorry for the leader of the Fantastic Four but he'd been in the man's shoes several times before. If Tony had chosen to cling to Reed instead of himself, well, so much the better. He was about to contribute to the conversation when a large fireball sped toward the window. It opened by itself (Clint suspected Jean's involvement) and the Human Torch depowered himself as he landed.

"Oi!" Johnny Storm barked crankily at Stark or Reed. Or possibly both. He marched over with a murderous glare. "Why the hell was everyone else invited to this party and not me?" He folded his arms and pouted like a petulant child.

"'Coz yer a dickbag who can't hold yer liquor and even Stretch is more fun than ya," growled Wolverine from the wall he was casually leaning against. Spider-Man's laughter was the loudest of those in the room, despite the fact he was precariously dangling upside-down from a wall and a lampshade. Clint was quite certain that the web-warrior was already completely drunk and he strongly suspected that Spider-Man wasn't quite old enough to live up to the second half of his moniker.

"What! That's so not true. It's all lies!" Johnny defended. "And it's not like I have some sort of jumped up healing factor, which is totally cheating by the way..."

Logan talked over the matchstick. "Then grab a drink and shut yer trap. Some o' us are trying to get hammered already and yer girly complaints are killin' the mood." Wolverine smirked at the still pouty pilot before he turned his attention back to his Canadian beer and Ben, who was merely enjoying the spectacle of the Human Torch making a fool of himself.

Johnny huffed and muttered, "Fine," before moving toward the Bar Wench.

"...fortable to relax in a bucket, rather than a bed?"

Clint blinked as he tuned back into Tony's conversation with Mr Fantastic. Bucket?

Reed raised an eyebrow. "Why would I possibly want to sleep in a bucket?"

Tilting his head, the billionaire replied, "Well, isn't your normal form sort of a stretchy-gooey-ness?"

"Homo sapiens is my natural state," countered the leader of the Fantastic Four with a bland look. "I prefer to sleep on my ergonomically designed bed beside my beautiful wife."

Clint saw Tony look over to Sue, who was participating in a gossip session with Psylocke, Storm and Surge about high-end hair products as a very ill-looking Karma was chugging from a jug containing various alcoholic beverages that were congealing before everyone's eyes. A lecherous look appeared on the billionaire's face and he opened his mouth. The archer could already tell that this was not going to end well and felt relieved that he was no longer an Avenger. That way he wouldn't be affected by the fallout of whatever ridiculous notion Tony Stark was about to impart.

Without warning, Natasha harshly smacked Tony over the head. "Whatever inappropriate comment you're about to say about Ms Storm-Richards will be left unsaid."

"Yes dear," acquiesced the philanthropist with a heavy sigh, like a long-suffering husband.

Tasha just nodded at him before turning her attention back to the bottle of Vodka in her hands and the group of people along the far wall. Following her line of sight, Clint also looked over at Петр's group. They appeared to be having a fun time as their conversation was punctuated with a lot of laughter. If his gaze lingered on the Russian's smile, well, so be it.

The party progressed without incident for almost a complete hour. Considering the explosive combination of military training, dangerous mutations and alcohol, Clint figured it could be much worse. Tony got progressively louder and Reed, increasingly ill at ease but that was to be expected. Tasha slipped off to replenish their vodka supply at one point and had ended up lounging over the three men on the couch upon her return. Although the philanthropist thought he was being sneaky by trying to take advantage of his position, every time his hand closed in on Tasha's breasts, she batted them away without any trouble or comment. The two assassins shared a look and from the small smirk on the Russian's face, Clint knew Tony was going to regret his drunken antics sometime in the near future. However, the fact she hadn't already broken his fingers or killed him spoke volumes of her fondness of the man.

"Do it," ordered a rather intoxicated Theresa, causing those in the immediate vicinity to wince. The alcohol must have helped loosen the tight control she always held over her powerful voice and she wasn't the daughter of Banshee for nothing.

Jubilee smirked and shrugged before she started making her way to the couch full of Avengers (past and present) and Reed Richards. Clint had an inkling as to what was about to occur when the woman dropped her grin in favour of an intense look of concentration. Thanks to Siryn's loud command beforehand, the firecracker was pretty much the focus of the entire room. She came to a stop in front of the still reclined Tasha and bluntly asked, "Hey, d'ya wanna go upstairs and have some wild sex with me?"

With the exception of Clint, Xavier, Jean and the circle of friends that had sent her off in the first place, everyone else was taken completely by surprise. Tony simply gaped at the brazen firecracker, Ororo dropped her glass which promptly shattered, Spidey lost his grip on the roof and fell heavily to the floor while Logan started choking on a poorly timed chug of his beer. Clint guessed that if he hadn't possessed his impressive healing factor, he might have suffocated and died.

Natasha extended a hand to Jubilee as she swung her legs from Reed's lap to the floor and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She sightlessly returned Clint's bottle of vodka unerringly to his right hand before announcing, "Lead the way," with a small but genuine smile. Jubilee's face lit up with a touch of surprise and unadulterated joy.

Clint couldn't help but grin with her and used the bottle to give his friends a salute. Tasha had always chosen her sexual partners carefully as they had to be people she could completely trust. He suspected that Jubilee's upfront and brash manner had gone a long way to doing just that.

The X-woman's friends gave her a cheer as the pair passed them on the way out of the room, which caused the rest of the partygoers to resume their former activities. Clint's sharp eyes also spotted a sour looking Bobby slipping his girlfriend a crisp twenty dollar note, causing the ex-Avenger to smirk. Anyone stupid enough to bet against Jubilee and her complete lack of a shame factor deserved to be out of pocket.

Reed Richards wasn't a genius for nothing. He cleverly suggested that the only time the Black Widow's guard might be lax is while she's, quote, "Fully engaged in homosexual coitus." Naturally, Tony leapt right off the scientist, determined to catch whatever footage he could of the act. Thus Clint spent the majority of the next few hours babysitting the man-child and therefore saving his life (with JARVIS' help) from Tasha's future rage while Reed slipped away the moment the philanthropist was distracted, the clever bastard.

The party began to wind down as several mutants passed out and others left. Luckily Tony had also reached unconsciousness and Clint was finally free to leave the billionaire's side. If he ever saw Reed Richards again, the man would receive more than an arrow (or disc) to the eye. That had been the longest three and a half hours of his life.

Clint dragged himself to bed and enjoyed ten wonderful hours of uninterrupted sleep. A huge ruckus brought him back to consciousness and when he stuck his head out of his door, he immediately understood why. He'd seen Natasha snap a man's neck after taking three bullets to a leg and a taser to the chest, watched her drink seventy year old alcoholics under the table and perform gold medal standard gymnastic feats on an almost daily basis. Never in all the years he'd known her, had he ever seen her glowing like she was as she dreamily ambled toward her room. She didn't even seem aware of her surroundings, another first for one of the world's most dangerous espionage agents; not that the wolf whistles, cheers and jeers would have bothered her if she had noticed them in the first place anyway.

Snapping a photo with his phone, Clint ensured he'd have something to hold over Tony for a favour or two in the future. That and he totally wanted to add to his very modest collection of photographic memorabilia. It was the first time he'd seen both complete and genuine happiness from his friend and no matter what bodily harm she might threaten him with later, he was going to display it proudly.

Breakfast was rather subdued after the excitement of the Black Widow's walk of shame (or rather, her floating on cloud nine; Jubilee must be a beast in the sack) and many familiar faces were absent. Scott wasn't glaring over the student population, Logan's daily boot camp was cancelled and while Karma might have been physically present in the cafeteria, she remained slumped over an overlarge mug of coffee and didn't say a word to anyone. Jono seemed to enjoy the gloomy atmosphere and took great delight in psychically babbling at those who were suffering from hangovers, revelling in their grimaces of pain.

Of course, disaster would choose to strike when the X-men were at their most unprepared.

New York was once again the target of a terrorist threat via M.O.D.O.K. and A.I.M. The large bobble-headed computer was spouting the usual drivel (I was built only for conquest!) as he held several senators and state secretaries hostage at the Smithsonian. Ordinarily, M.O.D.O.K. and his lackeys would be left for the Avengers to mop up but Xavier decided to send out a team for two reasons. Firstly, the captive senators were the better part of the few pro-mutant supporters currently in the government and second, it would provide the X-men a second opportunity to see the two new Avengers in action.

As their ranks were so desperately low, Xavier decided to lead the few able-bodied mutants (plus Clint) onto the field personally. The ragtag team included Psylocke, Chamber, Surge, Colossus, Pixie and Shadowcat. They hit the ground running (or sedately wheeling, in Charles' case) and pretty much teamed-up with whoever they could.

Colossus, Chamber, Captain America, Thor and the Hulk mounted a frontal assault to draw the enemy's fire while Psylocke, Falcon and Pixie formed a deadly force who picked off A.I.M. agents from the side and behind with guerrilla tactics. Shadowcat and Quicksilver were tasked with rescuing the hostages while Surge and the Scarlet Witch concentrated their firepower on M.O.D.O.K. himself. This left Xavier with the difficult task of crowd controlling any nearby citizens to keep them out of the immediate vicinity. Flicker's primary objective was to defend the leader of the X-men from attack and to provide long-range support if able and let's face it, with his accuracy, he definitely could.

At first, Clint found it difficult to concentrate on the battle as it was only the second time he'd been near Captain America since he'd run away from the Avengers. Memories of the man's betrayal flitted about his mind and in all honesty, just walking away seemed like a great idea. When he realised that he was still donning his emo disguise, was bowless and after a few encouraging psychic words from his Uncle Charlie, he put his thoughts aside and began to settle into his role as Flicker quite comfortably. His only surprise was when Spider-Man dropped down right next to him to help out. Apparently, the web-slinger was immune to hangovers or more likely, another ally with a healing factor. They worked well together and the ex-Avenger was surprised to realise that he hadn't actually fought with the hero before. The quips he could live without though; they were almost as bad as Tony's. Almost.

Clint lost count somewhere near A.I.M. goon number sixty-seven and enjoyed lobbing fully charged discs randomly into the middle of the melee. Occasionally Psylocke or Jono would psychically call out a particular target for the sharpshooter and he never missed. All too quickly, the fight concluded and the superheros congregated. Congratulations were doled out and just like the previous time, Coulson was quick on the scene. The ex-Avenger tried to avoid notice but he did spot the agent's gaze lingering on him a little which was definitely cause for concern. At least no words were exchanged between them. His insides squired uncomfortably at his ex-whatever-they-were's proximity and he was ever so pleased that he adequately managed to mask his discomfort.

The quick flight back to the X-mansion was relatively quiet which afforded more than enough time for Clint to fret over whether or not his cover within the X-men was blown with Coulson. Just as he was about to work himself into a complete snit, a deep, soothing voice intervened.

"_Кажется, он не __имел __друзей __насыщенной __вечер __вчера вечером_. (_It seems out friends had an eventful evening last night_.)"

Clint's entire body tingled as he realised that Петр had actually initiated a conversation. "_Д__-__Да_, (_Y-yeah_,)" he eventually stuttered out, making him want to face palm for sounding like a teenage girl. He rallied and quickly added, "_Я __никогда не видел__, что __счастливы __Наташа __раньше, и я __знаю ее __в течение многих лет_. (_I have never seen Natasha that happy before and I've known her for many years_.)" He looked across the aisle at the Russian man and softly smiled.

Just as Петр returned it, Xavier informed the ragtag team that they were coming in to land. The X-men left the aircraft as soon as it landed to freshen up after the battle but one word from the Russian ("Stay") had Clint frozen in his seat. Петр walked up and placed a warm hand on Clint's shoulder. "_Они делают __хороший матч__. __Как и все мы_. (_They __make __a __good __match__. __As do we._)"

"_Я__ думал__, __вы __не __говорили __мне__,_ (_I thought you weren't talking to me,_)" Clint whispered with undisguised hope. Tingles spread throughout his body from Петр's touch and he shuddered with excitement. He belatedly realised the Russian would have felt it and he couldn't help but blush with embarrassment. As a last ditch attempt to save face, he tried to look away but Петр caught his face gently by his cheek and coaxed it back.

Петр released the archer, who moaned with discontent before straddling the man who was still strapped in to the Blackbird's seat. He leaned forward and breathed, "_Я __проиграл пари__, и, хотя __я до сих пор __зол на тебя__, я не __в привычку__ отрицать __себя __от чего-то __я так __отчаянно __хотят_. (_I lost a bet and although I'm still angry with you, I'm not in the habit of denying myself from something I so desperately want_.)" He surged forward and plundered his captive's mouth, causing them both to groan with pleasure.

Clint felt his arms automatically encircling Петр's chest as he leaned into the most amazing kiss he'd ever shared. Years of training allowed him to push past the pain he was feeling as his lungs futilely begged for oxygen. As far as he was concerned, breathing was no longer a priority.

Петр growled as he continued to delve into the archer's mouth. No crevasse was left unexplored and despite his best efforts, Clint turned into a complete whimpering mess. The Russian started to trail his hands over his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, causing his moans of appreciation to be swallowed by their still joined mouths. One particularly sharp twist to his left nipple was too much for the ex-Avenger and he jolted backward in shock and let loose the girliest whine he'd ever made. His only consolation prize was that he was finally able to breathe again but the loss of the Russian's lips was clearly unacceptable.

As Clint leant back in toward Петр, the Russian man's hands slid downward and curved outward. He grasped the archer's wrists from above and in one swift movement, hauled himself to his feet. "Uh?" Clint choked out with confusion.

Петр's gaze hardened and he folded his overly muscled arms. "While I really want this, I still don't know if I can trust you," Петр said, returning from Russian to English.

Clint felt both guilt and hurt flash through his innards. He knew he should have told the Russian that he could understand everything he said in his native tongue right from the beginning. He bit his lip and looked forlornly at the man he so desperately wanted. Yet, he could appreciate the man's position because if their roles were reversed, he wouldn't want anything to do with the man either. His hands reached forward for Петр's hips because they were the closest available surface of Russian. Gripping them tightly, he looked upward into the Russian's eyes. "I'm patient." Clint knew he'd be willing to wait for the rest of his life if Петр asked him to, which was rather frightening thought in retrospect.

Петр's ice blue eyes stared piercingly back, making the archer feel like they were scanning his insides. "We shall see," acknowledged the Russian with a small but firm nod. Петр gently petted his hands before removing them from his person and stepping away.

Watching the Russian turn around and leave the jet, Clint couldn't help but feel a strong surge of hope. Maybe he hadn't irreparably screwed up another relationship during its inception after all. He unbuckled his harness and made his way back to his room, in desperate need of a shower. What he couldn't decide was whether it should be a hot (post-mission cleanse) or cold (Петр's far too hot) one. He went right down the middle with a lukewarm rinse.

A pulsing in his fingertips that he had yet to notice until his shower was completed, alerted Clint to the fact that he needed to top up his fake powers in the wake of the mission and he took the time to completely refill every one. He smiled up without looking as he concluded the process and said, "I'm surprised you're here. I thought the happiness might have killed you."

"_Мудак_ (_Moron_)," came the familiar reply from somewhere to Clint's upper left but he could still hear the smile in her tone. "She was certainly divine though."

Clint unplugged the last two tubes from the briefcase Forge had provided him with and closed it before looking up at with a smirk at Natasha, who had made herself at home on his writing desk. "You thinking about making it a regular thing or was it a one-time deal?" he asked her seriously. For some reason the firecracker had always seemed to be infatuated with the Black Widow and he had a feeling that although Jubilation might deny it completely, she would be rather devastated if the liaison turned out to be a one night stand.

"We've come to an understanding," was all Natasha was willing to say on the matter but from her well-concealed excitement, Clint deduced that their arrangement appeared to be more of a long-term deal and he couldn't be happier for them. Now if only his own love life would fall into place.


End file.
